#opla mihack

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 9

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction 2023) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Original Characters, Akagami no Shanks, Roronoa Zoro , Perona. Warnings: Mention of blood and physical torture, violence, 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching. Summary: Constantly evading capture due to a bounty on your head, you were forced to embrace the life of a pirate, despite your initial desire for a thrilling adventure and a simple exploration of the world. One fateful day, the Marines dispatched Dracule Mihawk to hunt you down, plunging you into a game of hide and seek with the formidable Warlord of the sea throughout the East Blue. However, to your surprise, the man proved to be less bloodthirsty and hostile than you had anticipated. His piercing, hawk-like eyes, shimmering with a deep golden hue, left an indelible impression on your mind, while his apathetic yet self-assured demeanor ignited a newfound sense of intrigue within you.

Credits: The divider was made by firefly-graphics.

Tagging: @gg-trini, @commanderfreethatdust, @canthebest1, @shakysif, @i-am-vita. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the future chapters, feel free to drop me a comment!

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With the new seastone-hulled ship ready for its maiden voyage, Isaiah introduced you to a crew of formidable individuals, each with their own special skill. Of course, expecting your very first expedition in the Grand Line to be mundane was pure wishful thinking.

Warning: Detailed NSFW content ahead.

The sounds filling your cabin were absolutely indecent, alternating between loud moans and wet noises of skin hitting skin.

Pinned beneath him with your hands above your head, you wrapped your legs around Mihawk's waist as he moved, thrusting powerfully into you like a man consumed by fervent lust. His lips traced delicate paths across your cheek while his facial hair gently tickled your skin, his bare chest grazing your nipples with each rhythmic push.

His complete nakedness was unusual, as he typically preferred keeping his lower garments unless circumstances demanded otherwise. This welcome change suggested his growing comfort in your presence, deepening your level of intimacy and revealing a new facet of his complex character.

"Harder," you urged him, desperate from months of loneliness and physical neglect.

"Hm. You should be more mindful of your words," he replied with cool composure. "You may come to regret such bold requests."

"Oh please, we're way past that," you breathed. "I haven't seen you in months… the least you could do is indulge me."

"As expected of you. But you should know, I don’t intend to show mercy."

Your nails dug into his skin as your fingers tightened around his hands. "If I'd wanted gentle, I wouldn't have chosen you."

He throbbed inside you, pulsing against your depths in reaction to your response. "I must warn you then; I will not cease until I have achieved satisfaction, even if that means continuing our activities until dawn."

You chuckled. "I love how you manage to stay elegant even during sex."

"Elegant?" He scoffed, his piercing golden eyes fixed on you. "Look at yourself—breathless, ravenous, clinging to me like a lifeline. There is nothing elegant about what transpires between us. This is pure, raw desire."

Stifling another moan, you let out a laugh. "I was talking about your way with words. So let me be crystal clear. I want you to take me as hard as you can, for as long as you can, until I'm completely undone."

"Daring words again," he murmured, drawing in a sharp breath of pleasure. "Very well. You brought this upon yourself."

He released your hands and slid his palms down to your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds roughly while pinching your nipples between his fingers. Your delicious mewl encouraged him as he moved lower, spreading your legs wider and unwinding them from his hips. Your clitoris was aching, throbbing with need at the sudden exposure, aching intensely for attention.

Mihawk’s gaze lingered on your aroused flesh as he slowly dragged his fingers up your inner thigh—sending shivers through your nerves—until he reached his destination like a coveted prize. The circular motions of his thumb against the flushed tip made you writhe beneath his touch, your hips bucking uncontrollably with each stroke he provided. Torturous and menacing, he went straight to the point without preamble.

‘A-ah. W-wait—”

"Hmm... having second thoughts? I'm afraid it's far too late for that now."

You gasped as his thumb continued its relentless stimulation, while he remained perfectly still inside you.

"N-no, it's not that. It's just... you're not moving."

"Oh, we have plenty of time for that," he purred. "I doubt you want me to stop what I'm doing."

"Well, no. But if you keep this up, I'll reach my limit far too quickly."

"Then consider this our personal training session. I know you have the stamina to recover and continue."

Your head fell back against the pillow as he struck a particularly sensitive area. "I mean... yeah. But are you really testing me?"

"Life is a test of endurance, my dear. Show me how far your determination goes."

The dual sensations of his skilled fingertips against your clit, combined with the delicious pressure within your walls, sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your entire form. Like a gathering tempest, pleasure rapidly built toward your breaking point.

"Shit. Why must you be so irresistible?"

“Oh?”

"I mean it," you panted. "You're impossibly attractive. Everything you do is just... so enticing—ah!"

"Do not presume I am unaffected by your allure. Your presence draws me in like a blade to its mark. And that can be… most troublesome indeed."

"Ah. So I'm an inconvenience to you, am I?"

"You are quite the distraction," he stated with stern control, his penetrating eyes falling on the ever-present cross necklace adorning your neck. "Yet I find myself intrigued by this particular disruption to my solitude."

"Well, well. The almighty Dracule Mihawk, rendered powerless by a mere dealer from the East Blue."

His lips tightened into a thin line as his thumb and forefinger grasped your clit with exquisite precision. "Powerless is an absurd notion.”

"Mh…ah! Okay. As much as I enjoy our banter, I'm… rather preoccupied with how close you're bringing me to the edge."

"By all means, proceed."

“Wait, really? You don’t mind?”

"Consider yourself fortunate that I do not take satisfaction in prolonging your suffering needlessly."

He shifted his hips and thrust deeper, hitting your tender spot with such perfection that you came completely unraveled, his thumb moving on your clit with maddening speed, slipping on it with ease.

"I find it rather gratifying to witness you falling apart beneath my touch."

In an instant, you dissolved into sheer bliss, your back arching as waves of uncontrolled euphoria ignited every fiber if your being during your explosive release.

"Precisely as intended," he pronounced.

Mihawk continued with unrelenting determination, withdrawing only to drive deep inside you again, his fingers maintaining their persistent pace.

Your inner walls gripped him with fierce constriction, eliciting a sharp breath from between his clenched teeth as he fought to resist his own impending climax.

Being Dracule Mihawk, however, he remained utterly unshaken.

“Please… ah! That's too much!” You whimpered.

"I think not. Surely you can withstand a little more,” he remarked with authority, his voice carrying that signature blend of aristocratic refinement and subtle intimidation.

"Ah, so we're playing this game now, eh? Fine, you're in for quite a challenge," you breathed out.

As he resumed his measured thrusts, your oversensitive nerves gradually transformed from tingling discomfort to renewed rapture. Proceeding with deliberate cadence, he pulled his fingers away, leaving a hollow emptiness of unfulfilled need in his wake.

"I find such challenges worthy of my attention."

"Well, I do as well—Ahh!"

Your voice was cut off by his next plunge as Mihawk gripped your legs firmly and drove into you at a more savage tempo than before. You had requested ferocity, and he obliged with unwavering vigor, confident in your resilience to match his formidable strength.

His movements became fierce and purposeful, establishing a powerful rhythm that pushed your limits without breaking them. As you attempted to meet his hips, you found his dominance unreachable.

And you reveled in every second of it.

"Is this display of power sufficient?" He inquired with aristocratic poise, his breathing remarkably steady despite such exertion.

"I know this isn't your full strength, but yes, it's exactly what I had in mind."

"I am a man of honor, and I keep my word."

As your legs quivered, you felt him growing impossibly thick inside you, spurred by your compliance and the way you appreciatively squeezed his length against your core.

"Indeed," you murmured. "A rare quality in these times."

"I would prefer to hear your voice express something more primal. Thank you."

"A—ah, sorry. Did you expect me to scream your name?"

"Such theatrics are unnecessary."

"But you still—mmh! You still want to hear me moan for you."

"Your every reaction betrays you, without my needing to ask for more," he said with cold amusement. "Less talking. More of that delectable sounds."

Another chuckle escaped your lips, evolving into a breathless moan you couldn't hold back. His athletic prowess was astonishing, his hips carrying on without showing any sign of fatigue.

"Touch yourself," he commanded. "Let me witness your pleasure."

Without hesitation, you complied. Your hand traced the curve of your abdomen, sliding closer and closer to where your bodies joined. But the moment your fingers grazed your sensitive nub, brushing against it with a feather-light touch, Mihawk's hand clamped firmly around your wrist.

"Not there. I require something else."

You arched an eyebrow. "Something else?"

Wordlessly, he guided your hand upward, letting it trail across your heated skin and directing it to one of your breasts, following its curve. You swallowed hard, transfixed by the burning passion of his gaze as he studied you, his eyes so darkly erotic that they made you burn with the promise of another approaching release.

"Surely you don't require explicit instruction."

You smiled. If Mihawk wanted a show, you would give him the most arousing display imaginable, one that would surpass any man's wildest fantasies.

With deliberate slowness, as his hand returned to your thighs, you caressed your nipple in delicate circles, savoring the electric tingles from such a sweet stimulation. His tightening jaw and the low "mh" that escaped his throat were all you needed to feel your motivation flare, arching your back, and moaning lightly as you clamped your walls repeatedly around him.

"You are utterly maddening," he declared. "And I alone shall witness such captivating displays."

"That goes without saying," you replied, your cheeks flushed. "I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else."

"Any man foolish enough to entertain such thoughts about you will meet a most unfortunate end by my blade."

"You'd have to read their minds first. Unless your abilities extend to telepathy."

"I can assure you, one glance is all I require."

Closing your hands around your breasts, pushing them together, you inhaled deeply. "Well, let them look... and let them think what they will when they see me walking around. Should that ever happen, you'll know that all of this, all of me, belongs only to you."

Your words sparked a possessive growl, followed by more forceful thrusts that made you jolt back and forth. His thumb and forefinger returned to your clit, encircling it with masterful skill.

"Good. Let this serve as a reminder of your place."

Gently, you reached up to caress his face, initiating a kiss that left you completely breathless. His movements became more measured as he responded to your affection, while you delicately explored his lips, tracing their perfect line like a brush gliding across canvas. He accepted your tongue into his mouth, allowing you to relish the contrasting sensation of his beard, rough yet soft against your palms.

"I know exactly where I stand, Mihawk," you murmured between sighs. "I wouldn't spend months here waiting for someone who wasn't truly important to me."

"Your dedication is quite remarkable," he stated. "I must confess, the duration of my absence proved more arduous than I anticipated.”

"Ah, so you did miss me, didn't you?"

“Your presence has become quite… significant."

"I'll take that as a 'yes’.”

You brought your lips to his ear, your warm breath ghosting across it. "Right now though, I want nothing more than for you to ravish me."

"Is that what you wish? So be it."

Pushing you onto your back once more, he rose to his knees and positioned your legs upward, securing them firmly around his waist. His pelvis jerked back and forth, his length slipping in and out of you so rapidly that your vision started to blur, your eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure cascaded through you like an endless spectacle of shooting stars. His precise thrusts sent you tumbling over the precipice, your toes curling as another orgasm made you cry out and tremble. It arrived suddenly, erupting like a firecracker.

Then he stilled, waiting for your euphoric waves to subside, his golden eyes blazing with hunger despite his impassive expression.

You were gasping, completley speechless and paralyzed by his scrutiny. Mihawk gripped your legs beneath your knees, spreading them before him again as he withdrew his arousal—rigid, throbbing, and wholly unsatisfied.

"What are you doing?" you asked in confusion. "You're still hard."

"I am acutely conscious of my present state."

"Well, obviously. Why did you stop?"

"As I've already explained, I’m a man bound by honor."

You blinked slowly. "And?"

"You requested my full attention and endurance… and the night stretches before us like an endless sea."

"Wonderful, now you've become poetic."

"Would you prefer I remain in brooding silence?"

You shook your head. "No, no—I didn't mean that in a bad way."

His length slid against your wetness in a slow, teasing motion, his tip grazing your clit causing delicious tremors to form through it. "Then allow me to savor every moment," he declared.

You nodded, reaching for the flushed, glistening tip of his hardness, grazing the spongy surface with delicacy and reverence. "Naturally, you can. It's just... look at you. How long can you possibly maintain such restraint? It can't be good for you."

"Oh, it can," he replied coldly. "Most effectively."

You snorted. "Don't tell me you're actually applying your swordsmanship training to sex now."

"Discipline and control are essential in all aspects of life. Just as I master the blade, I master the art of pleasure. And you shall reap the benefits of my expertise."

"Damn it, Mihawk, you're impossible!"

"I doubt you would like someone lacking in finesse and restraint. Someone as ordinary as your precious friend."

You swirled your fingers in a provocative motion, appreciating the hint of jealousy and possessiveness in his tone. "No. I'm more than content with what I have with you. But while you've had years of training behind you, I doubt I can match your strength. My body has its limits. I won't just sit here and let you wait until I'm ready again."

Your hand wrapped around his shaft as Mihawk pushed forward, sliding it through your palm with incredible responsiveness. "What course of action would you propose?" he inquired with curiosity.

"Since I'm already touching you, if you enjoy testing your limits, perhaps I could help you explore them? See just how long you can keep that perfect control of yours?"

A faint smirk played across his lips. "I find your suggestion intriguing."

"Ah, so I'm finally speaking your language, aren't I?"

"Not quite. But your progress is noted."

"Cool, I've earned the master's approval!"

Mihawk leaned forward, his nose gently brushing against yours. "You are neither my servant, nor am I your master. We are equals."

"How thoughtful of you to clarify."

"I am quite serious about this matter."

You offered him a cheerful grin, placing another kiss on his lips. "I know. You don't need to tell me that."

With incredible restraint, his length slid deeper into your hand. "Then the agreement is sealed. Proceed, show me the full extent of your capabilities."

"Getting impatient, are we? What happened to all that endurance?"

"I should find a more productive use for that sharp tongue of yours."

You giggled softly as you maneuvered both bodies until his back rested against the mattress, straddling his waist and settling into his lap. Your weight pinned his length against his abdomen, your fingers caressing his flesh around the tip. He made no protest, nor did he resist relinquishing command.

"A tempting suggestion, but that would likely undo all your careful efforts," you said with mischief.

"Hm. Your confidence is entertaining. I was under the impression you were more reserved in your claims."

You rocked your hips, moving sinuously along his length. "I don't brag without reason. If I recall correctly, you thoroughly enjoyed my attention on Mirror Ball Island. You weren't able to resist for very long, either."

"That was a calculated decision. I would never subject someone of your caliber to such unseemly surroundings."

"Ah, what a gentleman."

You moved faster, releasing his tip and pressing your thumb against the underside. You could feel him pulse and shake with each touch, and while his muscles were taut with obvious tension, his face was perfectly stoic, betraying no trace of strain.

"Are you certain this is alright? Your body is clearly aching for release."

"Your concern for my wellbeing is unnecessary. I have endured far greater challenges than this."

Rotating your hips, you leaned slightly forward, circling your thumb along his skin in a way that made him visibly twitch, though he contained every reaction with admirable excellence.

"You've nothing to prove to me, you know."

"I am not one to engage in such frivolous demonstrations."

"Are you seriously subjecting yourself to such torture for the sake of training? You're the strongest man in the world, surely you have plenty of other ways to exercise."

His throat moved visibly as he swallowed, your fingers stroking him with mounting energy.

"Must I truly articulate the obvious to you?"

"The obvious?" you asked. "Which is?"

With lightning speed, he pulled you close and sat up, his hands clasping your waist as his face hovered just inches from yours. "This has nothing to do with discipline or restraint. I simply wish to spend every possible moment savoring your company."

You exhaled, resting your forehead against his shoulder. "And you had to be this dramatic about it? It's not like I'd kick you out of my ship the moment you finish. I never have."

"I find your devotion to me most admirable. And as you so eloquently pointed out, quite rare in this world of chaos."

"If that pleases you, you can come to me for this whenever you need it."

His lips found your neck, trailing tender kisses across your skin as he made his way down to your collarbone. "You mean far more to me than mere physical gratification."

"Still, you enjoy this, don't you?"

"I can’t deny that. You are quite extraordinary."

He followed the curve of your upper breast with his lips, planting soft pecks, before descending to the rosy, sensitive peak at the center. He gazed at it in silent adoration, as though admiring the finest masterpiece ever created.

"Allow me to demonstrate my point."

As his lips closed around your nipple, you moaned in surprise at the exquisite sensation. He worshipped it like it was a precious delicacy, making meticulous patterns with his tongue, alternating between gentle suction and careful tugs. He moved from one breast to the other with calculated attention, producing soft, arousing sounds that filled the air around you.

"This was supposed to be about you."

"Oh, it is my dear. Tasting you is my greatest indulgence."

"You’re cheating.”

"Mm, am I now? I'd say you're quite enjoying yourself."

"I never said I wasn't."

With a silent chuckle, Mihawk continued lavishing attention on your breasts while stealthily sliding his thumb against your clit. He pressed it with an unprecedented technique, skipping any teasing to focus precisely on what he sought to evoke.

“S—stop… that’s enough.”

"Your limits are far greater than you imagine. Show me what you're truly capable of, with that remarkable resilience of yours."

He intensified the pressure while giving your nipple one last, lingering suck before resuming with his tongue. It was mesmerizing, tender, and impossibly divine, intensely pleasurable and all-consuming. Despite your expectations, a third climax blossomed deep into your core, gentler than before, like a soft echo of bliss. It was no less delightful, however, sending your eyes rolling back and making you writhe against him.

At last, Mihawk could no longer contain his carnal desire. Surrendering to the flush on your cheeks and the feelings flowing through him as your hand squeezed his length, he finally yielded to his release, spilling onto his torso with powerful pulses that seemed to stretch into an eternity of pure delectation. It was primal, sexy, and fulfilling, a harmony that transcended mere physical need.

He was breathtaking and singular, unlike any man you had ever known, and the only one you wished to share your bed with for all time.

Mihawk released a low growl, drawing a deep breath through his nose as his tremors gradually subsided. You trailed your lips along his cheek, brushing past the corner of his eye before returning to his ear. "Well, look at the mess you've done."

"I believe you had quite the hand in this matter, did you not?" He replied.

"Quite literally, in fact."

With a light sigh, he assisted you in relocating from his lap. “If you would be so kind as to assist me with this predicament."

"Shall we take another bath?"

"Do you intend to engage in such childish behavior as last time?"

You laughed. "Childish behavior? What, you mean splashing water? I was merely teasing you. And considering what we did after that, I'd say you liked it."

"The aquatic activities were not my primary source of satisfaction, but I must admit, you made them tolerable."

"Tolerable, hmm? If you say so. But I'm feeling rather sticky at the moment, so feel free to wait here in this state if you prefer."

"I shall accompany you. After all, a true swordsman never leaves a task unfinished."

You cracked up, kissing his forehead before sliding off his lap completely. "I wouldn't dream of interfering with that. But fair warning; if you can't keep your hands to yourself, you'll have to finish up alone. I'm completely drained."

Grabbing the sheet, you draped it over yourself as you headed to the bathroom, leaving him completely exposed—and unfazed by that.

"Do you intend to submerge yourself while wrapped in fabric?"

"Oh no, that's just for modesty's sake. I wouldn't want to distract you with the view of my backside."

As you filled the tub and arranged clean towels on the stool, you heard the mattress creak followed by his footsteps across the wooden floor. His hands reached for your waist from behind, grasping the fabric's edge you held before letting it fall in a soft cascade onto the wooden planks.

"Your beauty deserves no concealment," he stated. "And you are precisely the sort of diversion I find most intriguing."

You turned to face him, your hand gently caressing his bearded jawline as water flowed into the bath. Steam rose gracefully, enveloping the room in a gentle warmth. With the world outside fading away to leave just the two of you, completely naked before each other, you lost yourselves in a moment more ethereal than any novel could capture.

His eyes gleamed like molten gold, accentuated by the warm glow of the lanterns. He gazed at you as though you were the most precious thing in existence—his expression reserved and enigmatic, yet beneath it lay an unmistakable tenderness.

"Do you really find me beautiful?" you inquired gently.

"My words are neither frivolous nor empty," he stated, his piercing gaze unwavering. "Mere physical attraction is fleeting, but you... you are striking in every conceivable way."

"I see. In that case, I should abandon all pretense of modesty around you, indeed," you said with a chortle. "Evidently, you prefer me wearing nothing but you."

Then, for the first time, Mihawk's lips curved into a genuine smirk; an extremely rare, unguarded smile that you had never seen before and suspected no one else had witnessed.

And it was magnificent.

“Now you’re finally speaking sense,” he replied, pulling you into a loving kiss as his fingers reached for the bandaged burn on your neck.

"I hope everything went well back home," you said, idly trailing your nails along his chest.

"Nothing of significance occurred. Just the usual tedious affairs one must attend to, hardly worth recounting."

"Hmm. I heard you were on some mission for Vice Admiral Garp? What was that about?"

He repositioned his arm around your shoulder, tilting his head to look down at you. "I was tasked with locating his grandson. A rather mundane endeavor, I must say."

You blinked in surprise. "His grandson?"

"A rookie stirring chaos in the East Blue. Monkey D. Luffy."

"Wait—Monkey D. Luffy is Vice Admiral Garp's grandson?"

"Are you acquainted with this boy?"

"Not at all, but I've heard quite a bit about him. They say he always carries a distinctive straw hat, and rumor has it he's made of rubber, likely from a Devil Fruit."

“Mh.”

"Did you manage to find him? After all, you never fail to track down your targets," you stated with a smile.

“Naturally.”

"So? What happened?"

He gestured dismissively. “I decided to let him go.”

"Oh really? I think I've heard a similar story before."

"And here you are, living proof of my occasional moments of mercy."

"Are you being sarcastic with me now?"

"Such frivolity would be beneath me."

You replied with a playful scoff, curling closer against his chest. "So, you let him go. Did something about him intrigue you?"

“He is… interesting.”

"Oh? Do tell me more."

He thoughtfully wet his lips, the simple motion appearing both casual and deeply sensuous. “I told you when we met; this world could use a few wild cards. The boy has a certain untamed fire. I recognized that same defiant spirit in you when our paths first crossed."

You hummed in delight. "I see. I'll just leave it at that, then."

Mihawk paused, gazing at the ceiling as he contemplated recent events. “I must say, there was someone else worth of my attention.”

"Oh? Should I be feeling jealous?"

"Unless you find yourself harboring feelings of jealousy towards a swordsman who once made his living hunting pirates.”

You propped yourself up and asked, "A former pirate hunter?"

"Roronoa Zoro," he responded, his voice carrying a refined gravitas. "Perhaps you are familiar with the name?"

"You bet I am! According to Isaiah, he was quite a frightening one. He literally walked around with a man split in half in his bag. That would be almost comical if it weren't so gruesome."

"I trust he never came after you?”

You shook your head. "No, surprisingly. I heard he was arrested by the Marines at one point, but then a peculiar young man with a straw hat freed him. That would explain his sudden change of allegiance," you concluded. "There are several amusing stories about Captain Morgan's son. Apparently, Roronoa gave him quite the ridiculous haircut."

Mihawk regarded you with an expression of practiced skepticism.

"Hey, that's just what people gossip about! I don't even know if it's true."

"How utterly mundane."

You stifled an amused laugh, finding his refined disdain rather entertaining.

"So, you encountered Roronoa Zoro. Then what? Did you take interest in him merely because he wields three swords?"

"No. He challenged me to a duel.”

“Ah.”

“His eyes carried the same delusion I've seen countless times before; the belief that he could defeat me. But there was something different about him."

Curious, you shifted your elbow against the pillow. "Yeah?"

"His raw strength is undeniable, but he lacks discipline. His path to mastery will be long."

"Let me guess—you won the duel but chose to spare his life?"

"Death would have been premature. He has potential that deserves time to mature."

In that moment, you recognized a distinct intensity in his expression. This former pirate hunter had evidently awakened something in Mihawk, igniting a fascination that no previous opponent had managed to inspire.

At last, he had encountered a formidable adversary deserving of his legendary blade.

"So you found the kind of challenge you've been seeking for a long time, didn't you?"

"We shall see if he proves himself deserving. I have dealt with far too many disappointing final gambits."

You tenderly embraced him, placing a gentle kiss upon his cheek. "I doubt it. If you saw something special in him, you must be right. Just don't let him become strong enough to surpass even you."

"Such a notion is beneath consideration."

You sighed. "I'm not doubting your abilities, but... I would be devastated if that were to happen."

"Is that so?"

"Mh-mh," you mumbled, feeling the day's weariness settling over your eyelids. "I couldn't bear to lose you."

"Then I shall ensure that I never give you cause to mourn my passing."

Though his tone remained characteristically detached, you recognized the genuine commitment underlying each statement he made.

Your leg intertwined naturally with his, a gesture he accepted with comfortable ease. "Yes, please. Thank you.”

"Let us cease with this idle chatter. No need to deprive yourself of rest on my behalf."

You pouted. "Just don't sneak away while I'm sleeping."

"So that is what troubles you."

You inhaled deeply, taking in the pleasant blend of his natural masculine scent mingled with the delicate fragrance of the bath oils. "I'm not troubled, you can do as you wish. After all, you are your own man."

"Though I pride myself on my independence, I find denying your request for my companionship unnecessary."

"Your thoughtfulness touches me."

He traced his fingers delicately along your arm before gently brushing your hair away from your face. His warm palm settled against your temple, his touch light as he caressed the crown of your head. "You prove to be most exasperating. Are you aware of that?"

"And yet here you are, comfortably lying in my bed with me."

He gently pressed his nose against your forehead, his warm breath providing a comforting presence. "Infuriating, as per usual."

A content smile graced your features as you drifted into peaceful slumber, while his other hand softly wrapped around your wrist, keeping it securely positioned against his steadily beating heart.

Waking to find Mihawk beside you in the morning was an incomparable experience. Your hand drifted over the contours of his face as he remained still, providing a rare opportunity to study his distinguished features.

Satisfied, you settled into the hollow of his neck and slipped back into repose. As your consciousness faded once more, Mihawk's eyes flickered open, his gaze falling upon you with a carefully guarded tenderness, before conceding himself another brief moment of sleep.

An hour passed before Mihawk rose from the bed, methodically donning his boots and coat. From your reclined position on the mattress, you inspected his movements through half-lidded eyes, aware of the pleasant tension in your muscles.

"You won't disappear on me again, will you?" you asked.

"Quite the opposite. Our encounters might become more frequent from this moment forward."

“Oh, really?”

"Your companion has all the answers. Seek him out."

Blinking away your grogginess, you yawned. "My companion? You mean Isaiah?"

"I have granted him a gift of considerable significance."

"A gift? To Isaiah…?"

"It is meant primarily for our mutual benefit. His detailed explanation shall provide clarity on the matter."

You stretched your arms. "And you're not going to tell me. Enigmatic as always."

"How drearily predictable that would be."

"You're aiming for dramatic effect, I understand."

Putting his hat on, he immediately cast his face into shadows. "Until we meet again."

"Indeed. Sooner rather than later."

With elegant composure, Mihawk exited through the cabin door, while the rhythmic echo of his footsteps gradually diminished into the distance. You buried your face in your pillow, reflecting on the previous night's events while unconsciously reaching for the cross pendant that rested on your collarbone.

“He gave you what??”

Isaiah's grin was so wide it could've stretched across the Grand Line. "Crazy, right? I couldn't believe my eyes when he threw that bag at me."

"And how much Seastone did he give you, exactly?"

He leaned against the back of his chair, his eyes gleaming with an enthusiasm you hadn't seen in ages. "Enough for an entire ship, I'm telling you. Modest in size, but substantial nonetheless."

"Well, he's certainly a man of surprises," you commented.

"I admit he gave me quite the jumpscare. When he appeared in my quarters, I genuinely thought he had come to claim my head out of jealousy."

"Oh come on. He's far more honorable than that."

"Yes, but put yourself in my shoes! I was here alone, minding my own business and making plans, when suddenly I turned around to find this imposing figure standing before me, watching with those piercing hawk-like eyes. What was I supposed to think? It's not as if I had any reason to expect his arrival."

“Mh. Touché.”

He sighed in amusement. "I was in complete shock, truly. I'd never think Mihawk himself would strike a deal with me. But, considering it was about you, I suppose it makes sense."

"I thought he mainly came to you to arrange the surprise meeting. This is definitely not what I was expecting."

"Yes, that was part of it too. But I couldn't tell you about the Seastone yet, I thought he'd be the one to break the news."

You shrugged. "I suppose he wanted to keep me in suspense about it."

Isaiah nodded. "In any case, it may take a while. I've got myself a potential crew, but installing the Seastone into the ship's hull is no small feat."

"Wait, you found a crew already? That's quite astonishing.”

"Oh, I've actually known these folks for a long time. I should introduce them to you, they're a bit eccentric, but all skilled and follow decent principles."

You smiled, resting your cheek on your hand as you leaned your elbow on the table. "You're absolutely glowing. You know that?"

"To be honest, I feel reborn. This kind of life was really starting to feel constricting."

"I know that feeling. Though I must say, crossing the Calm Belts is no easy task either way."

"No, and the travels will definitely take a bit longer than they would if we had to cross the Reverse Mountain. But it's much safer and would allow us to come and go much more easily."

Your eyes wandered thoughtfully as you contemplated the situation. "So, you're planning to move between the East Blue and the Grand Line? You won't be leaving permanently?"

"Not at the moment, no. I still have some business here in the East Blue. One day, however, I may just set sail and never return."

You pursed your lips. "I see."

"Hey, that's just talk for the future, yeah? It's not like I'm leaving tomorrow. Also, my offer still stands. I really want you to join me in this adventure."

“I don’t know…”

He reached for your arm, giving it a light, friendly squeeze. "Look, I get that crossing the sea to the Grand Line sounds pretty scary. It's a big leap of faith. But Mihawk came to me so that I could build a proper ship, and I doubt he'd do that just for me. In fact, he couldn't care less about me, Y/N. He did it for you. Because he wanted you to have a proper means to reach him. Would you rather stay here, waiting for him in the East Blue, with the high probability of Mihawk being unable to return?"

You groaned with frustration. "I'd rather not spend more months in uncertainty, never knowing what to expect."

"Precisely. So, are you seriously going to disregard his generous offer?"

Mihawk had gone to extraordinary lengths on your behalf, providing Isaiah with high-quality Seastone—a resource clearly acquired through unofficial channels, as the Marines would not supply such material without significant scrutiny—specifically to enable more convenient meetings between you. Realistically, you couldn't expect him to continually make the journey back indefinitely.

"At least meet my crew first, then decide if this is something you want to pursue. I'll support whatever choice you make, but Y/N… this is about how committed you are to Mihawk, more than anything else."

The notion of discontinuing your relationship with the Warlord was entirely unthinkable, particularly now that your connection was developing in such a meaningful direction. While formal declarations had not been exchanged, it was clear that Mihawk's dedication was surpassing mere casual interest. He had stated as much himself.

Furthermore, you had acknowledged the monotonous nature of your dealing profession, and were becoming progressively intrigued by the prospect of embarking on a new adventure. Especially one where you would be accompanied by reliable allies rather than facing challenges in isolation again.

Isaiah's proposal for intermittent travel between the East Blue and the Grand Line, rather than a permanent relocation, provided a significant advantage. This arrangement would afford you the opportunity to conduct a comprehensive analysis of the potential benefits and drawbacks.

And so, with careful deliberation, you agreed. "Alright, Isaiah. If you want to arrange a meeting, then I'll gladly meet this little crew of yours."

With another wide smile, Isaiah enthusiastically slapped his palm against the table. "You're going to love them, I'm sure!"

Given Isaiah's extensive network of reliable contacts, you anticipated meeting some of the finest professionals the East Blue had to offer as you returned to your friend's quarters two days later. 

During this time, Mihawk made another unexpected visit, demonstrating an uncanny ability to locate you throughout your various business engagements. He displayed a keen interest in monitoring Isaiah's shipbuilding progress, expressing notable dissatisfaction upon learning the vessel was almost complete, and not yet seaworthy.

His impatience was rather uncharacteristic, though you appreciated his subtle anticipation regarding your potential presence in the Grand Line. 

"You keep forgetting that nobody is like you," you told him with a grin. "You're formidable in everything you do, but there's only so much us commoners can achieve in a short amount of time."

"Hmph. Nothing but excuses reach my ears."

While you had yet to formally announce your participation, you found yourself increasingly drawn to accepting Isaiah's proposition. Though such a venture would typically warrant careful consideration, the opportunity to meet Mihawk more frequently served as a compelling factor in your decision-making.

"Just give him time. I'm sure everyone working on it is doing their best. Besides, I doubt you'd want shoddy workmanship that could leave me at risk of being devoured by sea creatures if the ship breaks down."

"Naturally. I procured this material from the most discerning of sources. Nothing less than perfection will suffice."

With a playful kiss on his nose, you offered a lighthearted reassurance. "And absolutely perfect it will be."

As you neared the door, animated chatter emanated from within the building. You felt a touch of uncertainty about the social dynamics ahead, having grown accustomed to solitary travel over the past year.

Isaiah's distinct footsteps approached before he greeted you with his typical warm smile as the door opened. "Ah, Y/N! Come in—we've been waiting for you."

Isaiah ushered you into the resting area, where five individuals were seated comfortably in the lounge, each holding a beverage. The room fell silent upon your entrance as the group turned their attention toward you with focused observation, their collective gaze carrying an air of assessment, as though conducting an informal evaluation of your presence.

Each member of the group had a distinct appearance and style, with an array of weaponry strategically placed throughout the room.

"Y/N, I'd like to present my crew… and hopefully yours as well."

Clearing your throat, you raised your hand in a tentative wave. "Hello."

"Now, allow me to make the introductions. This is Nyx Caine, our badass gunslinger. Though she's better known as 'Red Viper'. We usually call her Red."

The woman's crimson-painted lips curved upward in greeting. Her shoulder-length auburn hair complemented her refined gothic aesthetic, which consisted of a tailored black leather coat adorned with silver chain accents, and sturdy combat boots.

"Well, well, if it isn't the infamous Cutthroat. I must say, I'm quite a fan of your work."

"Uh... thanks?"

She laughed. "Come now, darling, there's no need for modesty. Escaping from an entire Marine base single-handedly? You make us women proud."

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, I suppose I deserve some credit for that."

"Damn right you do, Little Hawk!"

Noticing your confusion, Isaiah chuckled. "Yeah, she likes giving nicknames to everyone. You'll get used to it eventually."

"Not to mention that you even managed to tame Mr. Fancy Pants himself. Nobody in the whole world ever managed that," she continued, her voice rough and sultry.

"Don't ever let the Warlord hear you say that," remarked a bulky man with tan skin, a bald head covered in tribal tattoos, and dark green eyes.

"Oh, quiet down, Ironhide. Even that oversized sword of his won't intimidate me."

"Yeah, we all know your fondness for big things."

"Ugh, you're absolutely disgusting!"

Isaiah shook his head with amusement and turned to the man who had just spoken. "This tank of a guy is Dante Rourke, also known as 'Ironhide.' He's a hand-to-hand combat specialist who fights with sea prism stone-reinforced knuckle dusters."

Ironhide rotated his hand to display the knuckle duster, its metal gleaming in the light.

"Impressive," you observed.

"Thank you, thank you! A pleasure to meet you, miss!"

"Likewise," you replied with a polite nod.

Isaiah motioned toward the one sitting beside Red. "Next is that tall fellow there. Ronan Vale, though everyone calls him ‘Gigsaw’. He's a skilled knife fighter and, let me tell you, an incredible cook. You'll never have to worry about going hungry."

Gigsaw deftly manipulated his kitchen knife with practiced precision, demonstrating expert control. His distinguished presence was marked by silver-streaked black hair secured in a low ponytail, while an intricate tattoo depicting a mythical sea creature adorned his forearm. "I'm going to make your taste buds dance, sweetie!"

You smiled. "Good thing I love to eat. Having parents who run a tavern means it's in my blood."

"Oh, I like you already!"

Your attention turned to the subsequent individual, who was reclining casually against the bar counter in a somewhat inebriated state, prompting Isaiah to exhale wearily. "Jett is going to be our sharpshooter and navigator. He's actually incredibly smart when he's sober."

"Oh, please! I've only had one drink."

"Yes, one drink—five times in a row."

The man replied with a dismissive gesture, a cigar held in his right hand. He had messy dark brown hair, stubble, and a pair of goggles perched on his head. "I'm Jett Calder, my lady. You can call me 'Trickshot.'"

"Trick may act indifferent, but he always keeps a watchful eye on all of us," Isaiah explained.

"I can vouch for that," Red chimed in. "You won't find anyone more protective."

"Hey, I'm a navigator, not your damn babysitter."

Gigsaw laughed boisterously. "Yeah, but you love playing mother hen to all of us."

Amidst the jovial atmosphere, you took notice of the final crew member keeping a reserved distance from the group, his face notably more somber than his companions. His long silver-blond hair contrasted with his understated attire, giving him an ethereal presence that made him seem almost otherworldly.

"Last, but not least, we have Vigo 'Ghost' Orlan, our stealth expert and scout."

Vigo acknowledged you with a subtle nod, raising one hand in a silent greeting.

"Ghost has a wickedly dark sense of humor when he does speak, though he prefers to avoid pointless confrontations."

"My dude appears out of thin air, scaring the crap out of his crewmates for fun," Gigsaw remarked. "He truly lives up to his ghostly nickname, and that's exactly why he belongs with us."

Ghost responded with barely a reaction, offering Gigsaw a lazy side glance before delivering his reply in his characteristic deadpan tone. "Belong with you? Nah. I'm just here because the Grim Reaper keeps missing his appointments."

As silence descended, you watched Red roll her eyes toward the ceiling, trying to hide her emerging grin. "You're not funny, Ghost. If you're so eager to die, then stop fighting."

"Relax. If I do kick the bucket, you can use my skull as a cool cup. Think of the aesthetic.”

You bit back a laugh as Isaiah snickered behind his hand.

"Don't be crude. I'd rather punt your skull clear across the ocean."

The other three men shared a hearty chuckle, and the welcoming atmosphere helped ease your initial apprehension.

As Isaiah invited you to join them, Red graciously made space on the couch, though her enthusiastic motion nearly caused Gigsaw to lose his balance at the edge of the couch.

"Us ladies need to stick together. I can already tell we're going to be great friends."

"Well, Miss Y/N, looks like you're in for quite the chaotic adventure," Gigsaw declared, settling back onto the cushions. "We're no ordinary crew, that's for sure."

Accepting the invitation, you took your place beside Red, who proceeded to fill a fresh tankard and present it to you - a customary act signifying your welcome into their circle.

Raising your glass in a toast, you clinked it against Red's tankard while Isaiah took his position near Ironhide. The convivial atmosphere provided the reassurance you needed, and with a decisive nod, you communicated your acceptance to Isaiah's proposition.

Thus, you had officially aligned yourself with a formidable crew for your forthcoming expeditions. 

"Honestly, ordinary is boring. I wouldn't want it any other way."

Your family responded with considerable concern regarding your planned expeditions through the Calm Belts and the Grand Line. However, their doubts were somewhat alleviated by the knowledge that you would have the opportunity to make return visits, as well as the reassurance of traveling alongside a capable and experienced crew who could offer support in combat.

After completing construction and thorough quality assurance of the vessel, Isaiah and the crew scheduled an initial voyage to test the ship's performance and establish effective team coordination. Nothing too ambitious - just a simple trial run to get familiar with the new waters and test the challenges that lay ahead.

Embarking on this adventure with an experienced group of fighters offered significantly more security and expertise than attempting to navigate independently, particularly given your limited experience beyond the East Blue region.

Docking your vessel at Isaiah's harbor to join the crew's ship marked a significant transition. As the assembled team made their final preparations on board, you contemplated the horizon, experiencing both exhilaration and trepidation about the trip ahead. The Grand Line, renowned among pirates for its extraordinary mysteries and formidable challenges, represented a path you had never envisioned pursuing until your encounters with Mihawk transformed your perspective on both the world and your own potential.

The crew completed final preparations for departure as a gentle breeze swept across the deck. The atmosphere was filled with the enthusiastic conversations of your companions, their voices carrying across the tranquil waters of the Calm Belts as you sailed past the familiar shipping lanes. The sea stretched out before you in an almost perfect mirror-like plane, disturbed only by the occasional glimpse of marine life in its depths. Most notably, the Seastone-lull technology proved as effective as Mihawk had anticipated, ensuring safe passage through these typically treacherous regions.

"That Hawk-Eyes certainly knows his craft," Trickshot observed, studying the map spread across the cabin table. "Whatever you did to win him over, I must say I'm impressed."

"I didn't really do anything special," you replied.

"Still, we can all benefit from this gift of his,” Red commented. “I've wanted to set sail for ages, but I wasn't exactly thrilled about crossing that damned mountain."

"Do you think the Warlord actually crosses it whenever he travels?" Ironhide wondered aloud.

Gigsaw smirked. "With that tiny boat of his? Not a chance."

"I mean, this is Dracule Mihawk we're talking about," Isaiah said. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Speaking of which, Captain, have you given her the other gift yet?"

Isaiah froze, a sheepish grin appearing across his face at the realization.

"What other gift?" you asked. "Did he give you something else that I don't know about?"

Clearing his throat, Isaiah stood from his seat, rummaging through his various belongings carelessly thrown into a drawer. "Well... uh... he did. Took me a while to notice, actually. He didn't say a word. You're both lucky I didn't accidentally throw it away with the empty bag."

Red let out a scoff. "You almost did.”

Isaiah presented a polished wooden box, carefully placing it on the table before you. Upon opening the lid, you discovered a sophisticated transponder snail, a rare, advanced model typically reserved for high-ranking officials. The diminutive creature lay peacefully dormant within its elegant housing.

"This is likely a piece of history in your hands—a direct line to Dracule Mihawk himself!"

"Wait... you didn't actually call him to test your theory, did you?"

"Well, no. But it makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Why else would he give me a portable transponder? It's clearly meant for you."

Red leaned in for a closer look at the device. "And this isn't just any ordinary transponder. It's one of those specially configured for private lines."

You raised an eyebrow, looking at Isaiah. "What were you planning to do, wait until we got eaten by a Sea King to tell me about it?"

He waved his hands defensively. "Look, it slipped my mind! I've been so excited about this ship that I completely forgot about leaving it there."

"Gee, thanks," you said dryly.

While Isaiah appeared contrite, Ghost interjected with his sardonic wit. "If the Sea Kings don't get us, her wrath certainly will. Better say your prayers, buddy."

The group shared a collective laugh at the quip. With a good-natured shake of your head, you politely excused yourself, taking the transponder with you.

"Of course, give it a test run. Just don't mention anything inappropriate… you wouldn't want to scandalize these tough guys here."

Gigsaw gasped. "Red! What do you take us for?"

"Easy—you're all just a bunch of prude kids."

"You talk like I've never gotten laid in my life."

"What, with a fish?"

"I give up. I just can't deal with you, lady."

With a knowing smile and a graceful nod, you exited the cabin and made your way to the deck to have some privacy. You positioned the transponder appropriately and initiated the connection, crossing your arms over the railing as you awaited a response.

Having a way to finally communicate with Mihawk represented a significant improvement in your relationship, eliminating the uncertainty of his irregular appearances, if and when they might occur in the future. Gone were the days of anxious waiting without contact.

After a brief pause, the call was answered. At the sound of his distinctive voice, a reassuring warmth spread through your chest, drawing an instant grin to your lips. "Hey you. Thank you for giving me a way to reach you, I never thought I'd see the day."

"A pleasure to hear from you at last," he replied, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement beneath the stern tone.

"Sorry. Isaiah only just showed me the transponder."

"I would be more surprised if things went according to plan.”

You chuckled. "Can you blame him, though? You did make him rather excited."

"Hmm. How very convenient to shift the blame in my direction," he replied with sardonic sarcasm.

"Well, at least you'll be pleased to know that I'm on my way to the Grand Line right now."

"News worth hearing."

"The crew wants to make a stop at the Isle of Forgotten Wagers. However, it will take us several days to reach it."

A brief silence ensued. "You must be joking. Out of all the islands in these vast waters..."

"What's wrong with that island? You're not fond of games?"

"Such childish games of chance and dueling hold no interest for me. I have better ways to spend my time than watching fools gamble away their dignity."

You hummed thoughtfully. "Well, they enjoy a good challenge, I suppose. Though gambling isn't really my thing either."

"Exercise caution. The casino belongs to a lord who prides himself on never losing a bet. And he still owes me a favor… one I intend to collect when the time is right.”

You sighed. "I see... that bad, huh? Of course our first adventure couldn't be a simple one."

"Stay vigilant. The truth in that place is as deceptive as the shadows themselves."

"Understood. The Grand Line certainly lives up to its reputation."

"As you should expect," he replied with his typical coldness.

Your lips curved into a wider smile as you turned, leaning your back against the railing. "Of course. I'm not having second thoughts, if that's what concerns you."

“Second thoughts?" Mihawk echoed. "You? I doubt anything could sway your stubborn resolve. Knowing you, I'd expect nothing less than plunging straight into trouble as soon as you set foot on land."

You laughed lightly, the sound carrying over the quiet whisper of the sea. "What can I say? I have a talent for keeping things interesting."

"Interesting is one word for it," he muttered, though there was a subtle gentleness to his tone that betrayed the grin likely tugging at his lips. "Do try to keep yourself in one piece. I’d rather not have to collect your reckless crew from the aftermath of some ill-advised escapade."

"Reckless?" you teased. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you are worried about me.”

“Hardly,” he denied, his tone dipped into a velvety low, effortlessly cool. A moment later, however, it shifted back to its usual command. "When you reach the Grand Line, send word immediately. I shall provide guidance in case of... rising complications."

“Fine, I'll keep you updated… and try not to make your life too difficult in the meantime."

“See that you don’t.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you reached to turn off the transponder. But before you could end the call, he spoke again, his voice softening ever so slightly. "And take care of yourself."

Aw.

"You too," you said. "Though I suppose you're better at it than I am."

“Undoubtedly.”

You could hear the faintest hint of a smile slipping through before the line went quiet, the only sound remaining the soft glide of the ship through the tranquil waters. In the depths below, a massive marine creature gracefully maneuvered beneath the vessel, its fluid movements suggesting a peaceful acknowledgment of your presence, as though welcoming a fellow aquatic traveler.

The moment you crossed into the Grand Line, there was an unmistakable change in the atmospheric conditions and scents. The air carried an indescribable yet palpable energy, manifesting as an almost tangible presence in the environment. During brief stopovers at various ports, you noticed a distinct difference in the demeanor and disposition of the local inhabitants compared to those in the East Blue. 

The Isle of Forgotten Wagers hummed with vibrant activity as various seafarers congregated to challenge their fortune. As soon as you arrived, your crew found themselves greeted by an array of merchants, each eagerly presenting their establishments and offering complimentary demonstrations of their gaming venues. Despite your cautionary relay of Mihawk's warning, the group decided to proceed with the visit, planning to acquire necessary supplies while participating in some casual entertainment. Though they acknowledged the inherent risks of gambling, the crew was confident in their strategic abilities to safeguard and potentially increase their financial resources.

The plan was straightforward and calculated; engage in a few select games at the casino before taking your leave, casually continuing to your next port of call. Surely nothing could go wrong on this seemingly simple excursion, right?

Wrong.

The casino was a magnificent architectural marvel. The opulent interior featured intricate gold embellishments and dazzling decorations that created a stunning visual display. As your eyes adjusted to the brilliant lighting, you took in the grandeur of the seemingly endless great hall, with its towering pillars and sweeping staircases extending in every direction. 

One quick survey immediately revealed this was no ordinary gambling establishment. The games were far from conventional casino fare, with high-stakes competitions that pushed the boundaries of both skill and survival. Throughout the venue, seasoned pirates engaged in life-or-death card matches, while others tested their mettle in combat rings and exhibitions of precision skill. The place was filled with a cacophony of sounds, from triumphant celebrations and victorious cheers to frustrated outbursts and the occasional din of conflict.

During the first hour, operations proceeded according to expectations, with the crew experiencing minimal financial fluctuations as losses were effectively offset by subsequent victories. As the group moved through the various machines and tables, surveying the vast array of gaming equipment, a distinctive man wearing ostentatious sunglasses and sporting bright yellow hair abruptly intercepted Red's path, compelling her to stop. She kept her cool, regarding him with evident disdain, her hand instinctively moving toward her primary gun.

"I see you have some impressive weapons there, miss. Would you like to join our next game? Any competitor who hits the targets quickly enough instantly wins 10,000 berries. And as the challenge increases, so do the potential winnings!"

Gigsaw grimaced. "Yeah, leave it, Red. This reeks of a setup."

Trickshot nodded. "And if you lose, I'd bet you'll have to pay those 10,000 berries yourself."

The woman inhaled sharply, setting her jaw as she pressed her crimson lips together. "You speak as if defeat is certain. Come on, guys—you know I'm the finest shot in all of East Blue."

You leaned forward discreetly, speaking quietly over her shoulder. "Careful, Red. They're probably rigging most of these improvised games."

Red smiled, her tongue flicking out like a snake poised to strike. "If they do, I'll know right away, I assure you."

Isaiah gently pulled you back by the shoulder. "Don't bother, she's highly competitive."

While the crew members exchanged resigned glances, you observed that Ghost had disappeared into the bustling crowd, his presence no longer detectable within the expansive chamber.

"I accept," Red declared. "Bring your best man. I'll have him eating my dust."

The yellow-haired host leapt to his feet with excitement. "Excellent! This way, please—you won't find a better shooter than our champion, Big Cannon."

"Big Cannon? Really? Did it have to be something so suggestive? It definitely sends my mind in certain directions," she exclaimed with mischief.

The man cleared his throat in embarrassment as your companions snickered, clearly amused by the innuendo. "Heavens, Red. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"Just teasing, lighten up!"

As entertaining as it seemed to be, an unsettling feeling crept over you as you looked at the shooting platform. Red took her position beside Big Cannon, an imposingly large man who demanded attention with his presence alone. You watched intently as he demonstrated his bravado, expertly manipulating his pistol before settling into a ready stance.

The host approached, carrying a rectangular box. "I must ask you to use these bullets instead. This ensures both competitors have an equal setup without unfair advantages."

With a trained eye, Red carefully examined the provided ammunition, methodically assessing their composition and specifications for any potential tampering. Satisfied with her inspection, she loaded her weapon accordingly.

"Ladies first, as they say," Big Cannon drawled.

"My, what a gentleman," she said sarcastically.

Taking up position with great precision, Red readied her weapon as the host directed the staff to arrange the targets - a row of glass bottles positioned along the floor.

"The rules are extremely simple: shoot all ten bottles in less than six seconds. Hit at least nine targets within the time limit to win the match. If your opponent matches your score, we'll reset with new targets."

Ironhide scoffed. "This is child's play. Red could hit those bottles blindfolded."

"Don't you think this seems suspicious?" Isaiah mused. "It's far too basic."

Given Mihawk's earlier warning, this seemingly beginner match likely concealed a more complex deception. After all, you had no reason to ever doubt the Warlord’s word.

"Ready... set... go!"

Before the timekeeper could complete his countdown, Red had already fired her first shot. In rapid succession, she discharged four more rounds with great accuracy and speed, the impacts only visible through the shattering of glass.

And yet, notwithstanding her exceptional marksmanship, only seven bottles were destroyed. The remaining targets stood conspicuously intact, appearing notably more robust than their broken counterparts.

"Seven out of ten in five and a half seconds. Not bad."

Though she remained silent, Red's expression betrayed her displeasure as Big Cannon stepped forward, dismissively gesturing for her to move aside.

"How likely is it that she would miss?" you inquired.

Isaiah let out a quiet sigh. "Honestly? It's extremely unlikely, Y/N. She's the finest gunslinger we've ever come across."

"Yeah, something's definitely not right here," Ironhide affirmed.

The deception came as no surprise. Mihawk's advice was always well-founded, and while treachery might be common in the East Blue, the Grand Line represented an entirely different magnitude of schemes and manipulation.

Big Cannon's technique immediately revealed evident inconsistencies. Despite his seemingly erratic aim and unsteady hand movements, each bottle shattered in precise succession, completing the sequence in exactly five seconds. Although you weren't a firearms specialist, your experience with weapons had taught you enough to recognize something was amiss.

"And once again, our champion strikes a well-deserved win! Good game indeed. I'm afraid you'll have to pay 10,000 berries, miss.”

Red's face flushed as crimson as her namesake lips and auburn hair.

“Care to try your luck again?" Big Cannon asked with a condescending smirk.

At that moment, it was clear that the situation was about to escalate dramatically.

"Oh, like hell I will!" Red's voice took on a stern, authoritative tone. "Why don't you show me those bullets of yours, asshole?"

"Miss, please remain calm. There's no need for accusations. I can assure you that all contestants receive identical sets."

Turning to the yellow-haired man, she gritted her teeth and backed him against a column. "Prove it then. Let your 'Big Cannon' here show his bullets. And while we're at it, I want to check those bottles. Is this your game plan? Luring in thousands of clients from every sea just to swindle them out of their berries to cover your daily losses?"

"N-no, everything is completely legitimate."

"Oh yeah? Then you won't mind if I verify that myself."

His eyes darted nervously back and forth, silently pleading with Big Cannon to intervene. In response, Red's opponent raised his gun, pressing its barrel directly against the back of her head. "How about you taste my bullets firsthand?"

In an instant, Trickshot drew his rifle from his back holster, leveling the barrel at Cannon's head. "You'll taste mine before you can move an inch. That's no way to treat a lady."

Isaiah rolled his eyes, placing one hand on his hip in exasperation. "Why can't things ever be easy?"

"Well, we saw this coming,” you clarified.

Gigsaw fidgeted with his kitchen knife. "Yep, but you'll soon learn we're a stubborn bunch."

"After all, this is the Grand Line,” Ironhide pointed out, staring at his brass knuckles. “The East Blue lies far behind us now."

"Where did Ghost disappear to? He's been missing for a while," you said, scanning the room but seeing no trace of his distinctive attire or long silver hair.

"Oh, don't worry about him, he's playing his usual phantom role. He'll appear soon enough with some clever scheme in mind.”

The yellow-haired man retreated from Red's intimidating presence, anxiously wringing his hands as his glasses slid down his nose. Big Cannon remained steadfast in his posture, unfazed by Trickshot, Ironhide, and Gigsaw's strategic positioning around him as Red drew her secondary gun, her aim unwavering and deadly with bullets that would certainly not miss.

"Come now, this needn't turn into violence. I'm certain we can reach a more civilized solution."

"Yeah, right—like I'm going to pay you money I don't even owe?"

"You could always ask for a rematch," Cannon grinned. "But if you lose again, the debt doubles."

Trickshot sighed in exasperation. "Maybe we should have listened to Hawk-Eyes, after all."

Isaiah scowled. "Yeah, but as you said, you're all a bunch of stubborn fools."

Gigsaw laughed. "Unstoppable fools, indeed."

"Either way, I demand a proper examination,” Red stated firmly. “Otherwise, I'll tell everyone what kind of cheating bastards you really are!"

As Red's voice rose, the commotion began drawing attention from nearby patrons, who turned to observe the unfolding confrontation with growing interest. The host's composure visibly faltered as perspiration formed on his brow, while Big Cannon held his threatening stance, weapon still trained on Viper.

Assessing the situation, the options appeared extremely limited. Any attempt to expose the casino's fraudulent practices would likely result in an intense altercation, a scenario you weren't keen to face given your first venture into the Grand Line. The alternative would be to pay the 10,000 berries fee, though Red's strong-willed nature and sense of justice would almost certainly prevent such a peaceful resolution.

"If anything, you should be paying me damages for your scam."

"My, my... what bold accusations I hear. What's going on here, by all the seas?"

A commanding voice resonated through the room as an imposing figure emerged. The man wore a finely tailored suit that accentuated his robust frame, and his meticulously styled hair gleamed under the ambient lighting. A prominent diagonal scar bisected his features, extending from above his nose to the left corner of his mouth.

"One does not simply make allegations of fraud about my casino."

Red arched an eyebrow. "Yet it seems you have plenty to hide."

The man snickered menacingly. "Oh, but you're quite the guest in my little gold mine. Everyone who comes here plays by the rules and pays their dues when they lose. It seems to me you simply can't accept defeat."

"Then I'm sure we won't find anything suspicious about your man's bullets or the bottle setup," you said, crossing your arms.

Turning to face you, the man’s grip tightened around his ornate cane adorned with golden inlays. His eyes lit up with sudden recognition as he methodically studied your presence, circling you with calculated precision.

"Well, I'll be damned, if it isn't the infamous Cutthroat from the East Blue."

"How delightful that my reputation precedes me, even in the Grand Line," you growled.

"Oh, but it's not just about who you are. I've heard whispers, rumors carried on the wind. Word is you're quite... intimate with a certain Warlord—one that I happen to know quite well myself. Though in the end, who doesn't?"

You rolled your eyes. "And your point would be?"

He shrugged. "Oh, nothing in particular. I'm merely stating facts. Since you haven't denied any of it, I suppose that makes them true, doesn't it?"

"Um, hello? I'm still here," Red intervened. "Perhaps you should mind your own business about the lady's private matters and focus more on my fucking rigged game."

"Right, right. First of all, let's all lower our weapons. We wouldn't want to spoil the day for all these fine people in the casino, would we?"

Red tapped her foot, refusing to withdraw as Big Cannon kept his pistol trained on her. "Yeah, your man first."

The casino owner gestured dismissively with his bejeweled hand. At his signal, Cannon lowered his weapon with visible reluctance, holstering it with a disgruntled huff.

"Ah, where are my manners? I haven't properly introduced myself, have I? I'm Croupier Saul. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

Before he could take hold of your hand for a vicious kiss, Isaiah instinctively stepped forward to create a barrier between the two of you. "Yeah, pleasure and all. But if you don't mind, we'd like to get this sorted."

Saul smiled maniacally, laughing through clenched teeth. "But of course. I'm afraid you'll have to pay your debt one way or another. How much was that again?"

"10,000 berries," the yellow-haired man responded.

"Well, that would be worth two days of full-time work here. So here's my proposition: if you can't pay what you owe, I can have you work for me until your debt is settled."

"Are you kidding me? Why should I waste two days of my life in this dump when you're the one who cheated?"

Gigsaw scratched his chin nonchalantly. "Look, I get you, Red. But wouldn't it be best to just give them the damn money and leave? There isn't really much for us to gain here, after all."

"It's 10,000 berries! We can't just let them get away with this injustice! They're evidently doing it every single day, dragging new customers into these makeshift games just to double their profits through deception."

Isaiah clicked his tongue. "We knew this was a possibility, yet you still chose to participate."

"Oh, so now I'm the one at fault for trying to enjoy myself?"

"All I hear is one accusation after another," Saul cut in. "For such outrageous conduct, I'll double your debt to 20,000 berries."

“What??”

Isaiah released a frustrated grunt, stepping away to stabilize his breathing.

"But I am known to be a gentleman,” he continued. “So if you wish, I shall offer you another alternative."

Gigsaw examined the gleaming metal of his knife. "And that would be?"

"Another game. One I would personally take part in. A round of cards, easy peasy. A timeless classic."

“The casino belongs to a lord who prides himself on never losing a bet.”

Mihawk's cautionary words echoed in your mind. The outcome would inevitably favor Saul, regardless of your team's capabilities, unless you could hope to outmaneuver him at his own game.

Trickshot shifted his rifle on his shoulder. "Right, as if we could trust you."

"Oh, but I'm an honest man. Still, if you don't want to play, that's fine. It's not as if you don't have other options, right?"

His predatory gaze, filled with malice, suggested his actions were motivated more by personal amusement than financial gain.

His true intentions became clear as his eyes settled on you once more. "I'd rather enjoy a good game of cards with Miss Cutthroat herself. I wonder if your skills at evasion live up to the tales."

"Hey, leave her out of this," Red protested, pulling you protectively to her side. "I was the one involved. If you want to play this game, it'll be with me."

"Ah, but I have other plans in mind. Unless, of course, you're ready to pay up—or perhaps earn your keep working here in my casino. What's a mere few days, in the grand scheme of things?"

"Few days? But you just said two! Not that I'd ever agree to that."

He shrugged. "Two days for 10,000. But like I said, it's already gone up to 20,000. So, what will it be? Are you really that afraid of playing cards with me, Miss Cutthroat?"

"Y/N, don't fall for it," Isaiah gripped your wrist gently. "He's just toying with you, don't bother."

"Yeah, I'm already fed up with this crap," Trickshot sighed. "How about we apologize for the inconvenience caused and provide the initial 10,000 berries?"

"Because we need to save every coin we can, Trick! And I refuse to waste it on these cheaters."

Gigsaw shook his head. "Red, come on, that's enough. This isn't worth the trouble. We can't afford to make enemies when we've barely crossed into the Grand Line."

“And he still owes me a favor… one I intend to collect when the time is right.”

Suddenly, an idea crystallized in your mind with striking clarity. Though potentially risky and unconventional, it aligned with the resourceful approach you had cultivated during your journey through the East Blue. Your intuition, honed by experience, suggested this crafted gambit might prove worthwhile.

Moreover, this time you possessed a strategic upper hand: direct access to Mihawk through secure communications, which could prove to be a valuable asset.

A satisfied smile spread across your lips as you softly pulled away from Red's hold. "I accept the challenge."

Your companions exchanged startled glances, their expressions betraying collective surprise at your unexpected decision. Saul's face brightened visibly as Isaiah leaned in close, his arm firmly guiding you aside for a private word. "What are you doing? Weren't you the one who was against this whole thing in the first place?"

"I was, but I know what I'm doing, Isaiah."

"Look, I hate to say this, but I doubt your judgment right now. Losing 10,000 berries would be better than any of these alternatives."

"He's already doubled the stakes. He won't accept just 10,000 berries and empty apologies."

Turning his head, Isaiah studied the casino lord's sinister demeanor. "You have a point, but Y/N, what about all those lectures on being mindful? Now you're acting just as stubbornly as Red?"

"Like I said, I know what I'm doing. Just trust me, okay?"

Turning back to Saul, you gave him a firm nod. "I'm in."

"Ah, splendid. Let me lay out the terms. Should you win, I'll wipe away your debt entirely, and you'll be free to roam the town as you please."

Isaiah's lips twisted into a grimace. "And if she loses?"

"Well, in that case, you'll have to work for me… for the rest of the month."

A collective gasp swept through the area as your eyebrows shot up.

Trickshot growled. "Could you be any more sadistic? I bet in a month from now we'd have to win our freedom through another game, or pay 100,000 berries to buy our way out."

Though the stakes were significantly higher than anticipated, making your decision more consequential, your resolve remained unshaken. "How about this instead? If I win, you pay us 50,000 berries."

The game was most definitely on.

"Mmm... well, that seems fair. So, shall we, my dear?"

Saul escorted the group to a secluded table in the spacious VIP section of the hall, accompanied by the host and Big Cannon, who caressed his weapon obsessively, like a treasured pet. Following behind, Red kept her cool, casually handling her own pistol as she spun it skillfully between her fingers. 

"Well, well, looks like our Little Hawk has some guts. Not that I ever doubted that."

"We're doomed," Isaiah muttered.

"Oh, come now. Don't be so dramatic."

“You started it, Red.”

You reached into your leather jacket pocket and retrieved your portable transponder, discretely placing it in your ear before offering your crew a subtle wink. Isaiah's expression shifted from concern to understanding as he comprehended your strategy, his earlier apprehension visibly subsiding.

"Hold on. what's she up to? Is that the transponder from the Warlord?"

"Seems like it. What, is she planning to call him for gambling advice?"

Isaiah chuckled. "Seems like she knows what she's doing after all."

With a wave of your hand, you replied, "Come on, you've known me long enough. Have a little faith in me, won't you?"

The round table in front of you was carefully set with playing cards, while a dealer in pristine white attire expertly shuffled and arranged them with precision, ensuring each card was perfectly aligned. As Saul took his seat, Big Cannon and the yellow-haired man positioned themselves on either side, assuming their positions with professional composure.

Taking the offered chair across from him, you settled in as your crew gathered protectively behind you. With practiced subtlety, you adjusted your hair and casually touched your ear, activating the transponder's connection while ensuring your movements appeared natural to Saul and his associates.

The call initiated instantly, but when Mihawk's voice came through, you were unable to give him any audible response.

"I must say, of all the famous faces that have drifted through these waters, I never expected to find you in my casino."

As the dealer distributed cards to both sides, you answered with a tight grin. "I'm no celebrity, but I'll take that as a compliment."

Several onlookers congregated discreetly to observe the match, as the staff served premium beverages to the exclusive table. Through the transponder, Mihawk stayed quiet, studying the situation with characteristic restraint as the gentle sounds of distant waves carried across the line.

"Oh, it is, but I must disagree. Your name has become quite notable. Though I suspect that's due to your... association with our dear Warlord."

As the first hand commenced, your careful scrutiny revealed no immediate signs of manipulation in the dealing process. A strategic approach, perhaps, allowing opponents to develop a false sense of security before executing the planned subterfuge.

"I'm curious though - how did you manage to tame him? Not even his closest allies seem able to penetrate that icy exterior."

Your jaw tightened as you placed a card down. "Tame him? Who do you think he is? We're talking about a person, not a pet."

Saul let out a snicker. "Well, yes. But everyone describes him as a bird of prey. And no, it's not just because of his eyes."

And then, your gaze caught a forming pattern that had been absent before; a seemingly casual scratch behind his ear followed by a deliberate tap on the table. These gestures, while looking normal, emerged as consistent signals throughout subsequent rounds.

You were losing, evidently so. But for the time being, you decided to play along.

"I have quite a history with Hawk-Eyes, you know," he continued. "He still owes me."

"Owes you? Hmph. That's not the story I've heard."

With each tap, the dealer made almost imperceptible adjustments to the deck's position.

"Ah, so he's mentioned me, has he? I'm honored."

You crossed your legs and leaned back in your chair with casual confidence, checking your cards while your eyes darted between Saul and the dealer. "Don't get worked up."

Isaiah moved closer. "Y/N, this isn't going to end well. You're at a disadvantage here."

Red playfully swatted the back of his head. "Stop being such a downer and let her handle this!"

Another sign: Saul made a light motion and touched his cufflink, something that prompted the dealer to misalign one of the cards.

"Tell me your secret. How did you ensnared him in your web? There must be more to your charms than mere beauty."

Your mind raced as you formulated your plan. "I didn't ensnare anyone. He's a free man, and the strongest swordsman you'll ever come across. Say what you will, but your ridiculous speculations won't get you anywhere—except perhaps one step closer to his blade."

He laughed again, but this time, you executed a strategic maneuver, placing your cards in an unexpected configuration.

You weren't the only one capable of deploying subtle tactics. With expert discretion, you noticed Ghost materializing silently behind the dealer, his movements fluid and precise. His hands, concealed within his coat pockets, carried out a masterful sleight of hand as he strategically positioned additional cards within your reach.

"You possess quite a strong character, my dear. Most admirable. You'd make an excellent attraction in my casino."

"I wouldn't be so certain about that."

"Why not? You're beautiful, you're defiant, and you clearly have a knack for captivating even the most inaccessible men."

You sighed. "No, what I mean is, you can't be so sure I'll be part of your crew, because you're going to lose."

"Oh, from where I'm sitting, it appears quite the opposite."

With his usual stealth, he withdrew a card from his sleeve, seamlessly integrating it into his deck. Such a classic trick, one you could also do with ease.

And he wasn’t even unaware of how transparent his duplicity was.

"This has been an amusing game, sweetheart, but I'm afraid we're drawing to a close. Though if you wish, we could play another round, with much higher stakes."

Through the transponder, you detected Mihawk's measured breathing, that unmistakable cadence that signaled his growing irritation.

"No, I'll be just fine with this round, trust me."

He shrugged. "Well, suit yourself. Either way, I come out ahead."

You scoffed. "You should be more subtle with your tells. They're not nearly as clever as you believe."

With perfect timing, you set your final move into action. As Saul revealed his Straight Flush with evident satisfaction, you wore a facade of disappointment before methodically placing your cards on the table, unveiling a superior hand that secured your victory. Saul's arrogance faltered as he stiffened, his expression shifting from assured to ashen as the realization sank in. The dealer and his associates stood motionless, their poise giving way to visible disbelief.

You interlaced your fingers beneath your chin and tilted your head. "Royal Flush. Looks like I won the match."

Your friends celebrated with restrained enthusiasm as you and Ghost exchanged a fist bump. Saul's calmness rapidly deteriorated, his expression darkening with undisguised fury. Rising abruptly, he knocked over both his chair and cane. In a display of unbridled anger, he seized the dealer's collar and began berating him, his words punctuated with intensity.

"What the hell did you do? I gave you specific instructions! Why does she have those cards?!"

"I—I... I don't know, I swear!"

"Ah, so you're admitting to cheating. Perhaps you'd like to speak a bit louder… your patrons seem quite interested in hearing the details."

Saul's face paled as he took notice of the growing crowd of spectators surrounding the table. A wave of discontent rippled through the assembled patrons, accompanied by the distinctive sound of weapons being readied.

Saul jabbed an accusatory finger at you, his face etched with worry. "Y-you...! You're the one who cheated! How could you possibly have a Royal Flush?!"

"It's called strategy," you said with your sharpest lie.

"Not a chance! You rigged the game, so now you'll work in my casino for a WHOLE YEAR!"

The transponder connection ended with a soft click as a sly grin spread across your lips. "I don't think so. Why don't you just admit that you play dirty?"

The crowd of agitated patrons pressed forward, demanding restitution for their previous losses. Big Cannon responded by raising his weapon in a defensive posture, silently warning the approaching mob of pirates and merchants. Meanwhile, the yellow-haired man retreated beneath the table, assuming a fetal position while muttering incoherent prayers.

In a swift movement, Saul retrieved his cane and extracted a concealed blade, pointing it at you. "If you won't accept my terms, perhaps it's time for a harsh lesson. You may get away with such tricks in the East Blue, but you'll find the Grand Line isn't quite so forgiving."

As your crew took combat stances with all weapons drawn, a transponder snail's ring pierced the tense atmosphere. Saul surveyed the room cautiously, eyes wide and sweating profusely, before directing the dealer to answer the call. The man in question, hands raised, approached the transponder snail resting on a silver tray. Though he established the connection and began speaking, the crowd's uproar made it impossible to discern the caller's voice.

The dealer returned moments later, holding the tray with trembling legs that threatened to buckle beneath him. "S-sir, it's for you."

Saul growled in frustration, lowering his sword as he snatched up the receiver. "Who the hell is this?!"

The voice that resonated was smooth and refined, like velvet over steel. "I see you're still playing your amateurish little games."

Mihawk.

Saul froze like a marble statue as his cane sword clattered to the floor once more. "M-Mihawk... you... to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"The match is over, she has outplayed you fair and square. Accept your defeat with dignity and honor your debts for once in your miserable existence."

"What... how do you...?"

"You still owe me a debt, and now it's time to collect. I'll make this very simple: release her immediately, pay her crew 100,000 berries in compensation, and return every single gold piece you've stolen from your patrons today. No exceptions. This is not a negotiation."

Saul collapsed into his chair, running a hand through his hair and destroying its perfect styling. "But... I—I can't afford all that!"

"Yes, you do," Ghost intervened, reaching inside his coat. "I took some time to explore the place. There's quite an interesting room hidden upstairs."

Your companion produced a cloth bag and placed it on the table with considerable force, causing the surface to vibrate. The contents that spilled forth were damning: substantial quantities of gold and precious gems, manipulated playing cards and decks, fraudulent casino chips, and detailed schematics revealing an elaborate system designed to control various gaming mechanisms throughout the establishment.

“How dare you—”

"Ah, my apologies. I was saving the best part for last."

Ghost took a black leather notebook from his pocket, opened it, and slid it across the table to Saul. "Quite an interesting list you've got here; patrons' names and financial operations, leverage material, and bribes paid to local officials and pirates."

"What the hell? All the games I played were rigged? Give me my damn gold back!"

"Yeah, me too!"

"This place is a fraud!"

It was quite satisfying to watch the patrons' rage unfold.

Meanwhile, Saul descended into visible panic. "You had no right to—"

"And what gives you the right to perpetrate all this deception?" Gigsaw inquired heavily.

“Your house of cards is missing a few support beams,” Ghost remarked in his deadpan tone.

“You little—”

Mihawk spoke again, his exquisite voice, though slightly muffled through the transponder, cut through the air like a razor. "Your dishonor belongs to you alone," he said with cold finality. "But your debt is mine to claim. In full."

"You!" a man shouted, turning to Ghost. "You mentioned a hidden room. Is there more of that stuff up there?"

"What you see here is merely a fraction of what's stored inside that vault."

"Where exactly is it?"

"Wait, don't—!"

"Upper floor, third room on the right, behind the false wine rack."

What followed was a spectacular display of collective action. The patrons exchanged knowing glances, their eyes alight with purpose, before breaking into thunderous pandemonium that resonated throughout the structure. Despite Saul's attempts to regain control, his protests were drowned out by the deafening chaos.

"What the hell are you doing standing there like dead fish?" he reproached Big Cannon. "You've got a gun—use it!"

Big Cannon raised his pistol with visible uncertainty, aiming haphazardly at one of the patrons ascending the stairs. Before he could pull the trigger, a precise shot rang out, knocking the weapon from his grasp.

Red. "Seems like I didn't miss this time, eh?"

At that point, Saul's pretense of control crumbled completely. He slammed his fists against the table in unrestrained desperation, his dignified demeanor giving way to a stream of vulgar expletives.

"Your petulant outbursts accomplish nothing," Mihawk said with icy authority. "Respect the terms, or you'll discover that losing your vault's contents will be the least of your concerns."

Saul slumped in defeat, both physically and mentally, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as the sounds of destruction echoed from above. The casino floor had emptied considerably, with only a handful of uninvolved patrons remaining in the halls. With a resigned gesture to his dealer, Saul initiated the final settlement. The dealer hurriedly departed, returning moments later bearing a substantial chest. Upon its opening, Red's appreciative whistle confirmed the considerable sum of banknotes within.

"Here's your 100,000 berries, as instructed. Now get the hell out of my casino. I never want to see any of you again," he snarled, his voice heavy with humiliation. "And Mihawk—this isn't over."

"Oh, it most certainly is," the Warlord retorted. "Consider this a singular opportunity to establish a respectable enterprise."

As the transmission ended, you stood with well-earned superiority, looking at Isaiah securing the chest and hoisting it onto his shoulder.

"And to think you didn't want to come. Quite a profitable visit, wouldn't you say?"

"Look who's talking! You were practically trembling in your boots."

"I wasn't talking to you, Red."

Turning your attention to Ghost laughingly, you watched him silently inscribing a message on one of the collected cards. Upon inspection, his refined handwriting revealed: “The house always wins… except when the ghosts come knocking.”

With a flourish, he tossed the card towards Saul, who remained immobile as it settled gracefully before him, the message clearly visible.

As you headed out, Red draped an arm around your shoulder and gently brushed her hair away from her face. "Not bad for our first adventure in the Grand Line, eh, Little Hawk?"

Ghost strolled casually beside her. "I knew it would be a good day the moment you said ‘Bring your best man’. We both cause problems, mine just come with receipts.”

Ironhide chuckled appreciatively at the remark, offering Ghost an approving pat on the back. Gigsaw methodically returned his blade to its sheath as warm sunlight greeted the group upon your exit.

Red rolled her eyes so dramatically they nearly vanished into her head. "Shut up, smartass. I wasn't talking to you."

Mihawk held you against the wooden wall of the dining cabin, your fingers threading through his dark hair as his hat lay forgotten on the floor. The air filled with the passionate sounds of your kisses, his tongue as demanding as your own, moving with equal intensity.

"Careful now," you murmured against his lips. "We shouldn't get too carried away… the others might hear us."

"So be it."

"I’m serious. I won't get intimate with you while they're right outside the door."

His hand tightened around your thigh, making you yelp. "Perhaps you should practice the art of discretion," he said, his voice a low, refined purr.

"Oh no, I won't let this become another training session," you chuckled. "I mean it, Mihawk. I want this moment to be just for us, not for everyone else to overhear."

"Fascinating how your body betrays your true desires," he asserted.

You pleaded, closing your eyes as his mouth descended to your neck. "I… I value my privacy."

He nibbled softly and complied, humming against your skin. "Very well, as you wish. I must admit, I rather delight in the sound of your surrender."

"Something I'm sure you don't feel like sharing," you retorted with a smile.

"Correct."

With a final kiss, Mihawk withdrew from your form, allowing you to release a shaky sigh and clear your throat while adjusting your crumpled jacket. "That was quite fun, by the way. You should have seen Saul's face from the other side of the communication. It was priceless."

"I suspect he will spend quite some time lamenting the unfortunate state of his affairs," he remarked with indifference.

"What goes around comes around, after all."

"Your strategy proved most impressive," he declared, picking up his hat from the floor and returning it to his head.

"Calling you? Or cheating my way through the final hand?"

"Both tactics demonstrated exceptional cunning."

"I certainly had some help there. He never would have let us leave so easily otherwise, would he?"

He pulled out a rolled paper from his coat, unfolded it, and laid it on the table before you. "He is not a man of honor, enslaving those who lose to his schemes. A most contemptible practice," he stated with disdain, his tone carrying a note of disgust.

"Indeed. What’s this, by the way?"

Inspecting the detailed Grand Line navigational chart, you noticed a black marker indicating a specific island within close proximity to your current maritime position.

"I shall be anchoring here tomorrow. Your presence would be most welcome."

You blinked in surprise. "Why would you want me there? The island appears completely deserted."

"There is a pressing matter that demands my attention," he explained. "Must I require a reason to desire your company?"

With a bemused smile, you shook your head. "No, I suppose not. I was just curious."

Mihawk responded with a quiet sound of acknowledgment, followed by a moment of silent eye contact. Then, he gently placed his hand on your jaw, lifting your chin to press a brief, tender kiss to your lips.

Savoring his unique aroma and taste, you directed the conversation elsewhere. "What's your opinion of my crew? They may seem unruly, but I assure you they're great."

"They are of little concern to me. What matters is the path forward."

You nodded thoughtfully. "So you've made peace with Isaiah then?"

"Peace is a bold claim. Let him maintain appropriate distance from you, and we shall have no quarrel."

"Mihawk, we're literally crewmates sharing the same ship. How could he possibly do that?"

His mouth formed a disapproving line. "I expect you to uphold appropriate boundaries in your personal quarters, unless there's something requiring discussion."

"Really? I thought I had made myself perfectly clear about this."

"My faith in you is absolute. It is others whose intentions I find questionable."

With a gentle laugh, you traced your fingers along the collar of his coat. "I told you, we're just good friends. Besides, no man would be foolish enough to defy you."

"Then he would do well to remember that my gesture of tolerance was not extended for his advantage."

"I know," you whispered against his cheek. "You gave him the Seastone specifically so he could accompany me safely, didn't you?"

"While your strength is admirable, the Grand Line is not meant to be faced in solitude."

You arched an eyebrow. "Says the man who perpetually sails alone."

"I stand apart from such concerns."

"Aye, aye."

As he prepared to depart, Mihawk indicated the marked island on the map with a light tap, although your eyes were drawn to the elegant contours of his knuckles. "Make certain you arrive shortly after daybreak. Do not keep me waiting."

"Very well, but don't blame me if the others object."

"If they object, perhaps they lack the fortitude required for life on these perilous seas."

You playfully poked his abdomen with a feather-light touch. "Only because they owe you their presence here in the first place. And because they know I like you."

Before he could pull you in for another kiss, a firm knock echoed from beyond the door. Red's voice carried clearly through the wooden barrier with her characteristic playful tone.

"Hey, Fancypants! Don't you dare do any dirty stuff on that table. I'd like to eat without having questionable mental images!"

Mihawk's subtle groan of annoyance was deliciously entertaining.

"Don't worry, Red," you called out through laughter. "The table is fine."

"Just the table?"

Upon opening the door, you spotted her wide smirk spreading across her lips, which suggested she was deliberately provoking the Warlord in jest.

"Care to inspect yourself?"

"Ew, no thanks, Little Hawk. I'll take your word for it."

Ironhide appeared from behind her, shaking his head. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Why do you have to be such a troublemaker? Give these two their freaking moment, you little viper."

"Well, that's why I'm called—ouch! Don't pull me like that, you brute!"

Ironhide firmly dragged Red away from the dining room entrance, her protests fading as they moved down the corridor, her legs splaying comically as her feet slid over the planks.

"Must they engage in such theatrics?" Mihawk inquired.

"Oh hush. You're the most theatrical man alive, and you know it."

He placed a light peck on your head before taking his leave, his boots echoing rhythmically as he strode toward the exit. "There is a certain finesse that distinguishes mere savagery from artful execution. Do not fail to be present at the appointed time tomorrow."

You dissolved into uncontrollable giggles, watching him disappear with such a dramatic flourish that it only made the scene more hilarious. "As if I could ever forget."

Oh, how deeply you loved that man.

Upon anchoring at the island, you disembarked with anticipation building in your chest. Even after all this time, encountering Mihawk still stirred the same intense emotions as your first meeting. Though you sometimes questioned the depth of your response, especially given his outward restraint that veiled his true feelings from view, your yearning remained undeniable.

However, on that particular day, you had an additional reason to feel utterly enchanted.

While your crew ventured to nearby ports for supplies, you proceeded along the shoreline in solitude, guided by distant voices carried on the breeze. As you advanced, a sizeable gathering of people gradually came into clearer view in the distance; several pirates reclining casually on the beach while holding their drinks, as Mihawk appeared elegantly perched on a rock with a glass of wine in hand. It was a rather unusual hour for alcohol consumption, but such customs were deeply personal matters that warranted respect.

Your attention was immediately drawn to a man beside the Warlord. The individual's distinctive features were unmistakable; striking red hair, three prominent scars across one eye, wearing a black leather jacket fastened by a front clasp, its empty left sleeve hanging loose. The sight stopped you in your tracks, your mouth felling open as you squinted and blinked, making sure your morning eyes weren't playing tricks on you.

Although you weren't intimately familiar with every notable figure in the pirate world, he was instantly recognizable from countless stories you had heard circulating across the East Blue, along with the enormous bounty the World Government had placed on his head. Sitting just a short distance away was none other than Shanks, the renowned captain of the Red Hair Pirates, extraordinarily powerful despite losing an arm and extremely influential throughout the seas. His reputation was multifaceted - a man who commanded both fear and respect, while displaying an apparently laid-back demeanor in his travels. Regardless of his casual disposition, all accounts consistently acknowledged his incredible capabilities.

Their relaxed interaction suggested a longstanding acquaintance between the two legendary swordsmen. You were frozen in place, contemplating your next move, completely unsure about how to proceed. After a moment's pause, you continued walking toward the assemblage, where boisterous laughter and celebration filled the air. As Red Hair's keen gaze detected your presence, he leaned toward Mihawk and murmured something, prompting the Warlord to turn his attention in your direction.

Rising gracefully, Mihawk set down his glass and strode toward you, his coat billowing regally in the wind. As he approached, you offered a smug grin, playfully crossing your arms. "Of all the scenarios I imagined when you requested my presence here, sharing drinks at such an early hour certainly wasn't among them."

"I assure you, declining their invitation would be unwise."

"What's the occasion, then?"

"A young pirate has received his first bounty."

“Who?”

"The boy, Monkey D. Luffy. We discussed him not long ago."

"Oh, he did? Well, that's quite something.”

"I find it strange that such news did not reach your ears," he stated, each word carefully enunciated.

"I've been rather preoccupied lately—thanks to a certain someone who persuaded me to leave the East Blue."

"By all means, retreat to your familiar waters if these seas prove too demanding."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "And miss the chance to meet one of the most famous pirates of all time? No way."

His eyes darted to the side in annoyance, to which you responded with a light touch against his chest.

“Anyway, I suppose it was inevitable given Strawhat’s recent feats. But what's their connection to him?"

"That straw hat originally belonged to the man you see before you.”

Your eyes widened in amazement. "Whoa. So not only is he Admiral Garp's grandson, but he's also received a memento from none other than Red-Haired Shanks? That boy certainly has an impressive lineage."

"And you surely understand the importance of punctuality,” he observed smugly. “Just another of your many virtues."

You smirked. "I made it clear to the others that if they made me arrive late, I'd chase them across the entire ship."

“I expect nothing less”

“Are you impressed?”

"I had no need to be impressed. I already knew you would honor my request.”

"You're quite hard to please, except in the bedroom."

His silent inhale to suppress any comment made you fight back laughter, though you didn't get the chance to fully express it.

“Now come. We should not keep them waiting longer than necessary.”

Mihawk turned on his heels and proceeded back toward the gathering, with you following closely behind. Given the widespread circulation of information across the Grand Line, you suspected Shanks and his crew were already well-aware of your connection to the Warlord. Whether they were expecting your arrival was uncertain, however, as was the true reason for your presence among them.

"Enlighten me. What exactly am I doing here?"

“You always ask too many questions.”

"And you're always far too fond of being cryptic."

As you walked on, Mihawk grew quiet, his silence preventing further inquiries while you approached the group of pirates. Red hair smiled, a radiant smile that lit up his face like an overjoyed child when you arrived, like the distant sun breaking through the horizon. He exuded warmth and gentleness, with an undeniable handsomeness—yet your heart already belonged elsewhere.

While a part of you felt a little self-conscious, his wholehearted reaction immediately dispelled any lingering discomfort.

"Well then," he said, his voice carrying both charm and authority. "Look who our dear Hawk-Eye has brought to join us, boys."

"She is not here for your entertainment."

"Come now. You can't honestly expect me to let this moment pass without comment.”

Before the Warlord could respond, Shanks continued, returning his attention to you with a roguish grin and slight tilt of his head. "She’s made quite the name for herself in these seas."

"Have I? And here I thought I was the one meeting an actual legend."

At your response, Shanks' smile grew even wider. "Tales of the Cutthroat have traveled far and wide," he said, his eyes twinkling with intrigue. "Some stories were quite fascinating."

"I don't really go by that name," you said with a casual shrug. "It's just a bounty title."

"What matters is what others choose to remember. Names have a way of sticking around."

"Choose wisely," Mihawk said coolly, eyes locked on Shanks with blade-sharp precision. "Or you will discover that your hangover shall be but a minor inconvenience compared to what awaits you.”

The air tightened for just a second, the crew around you falling awkwardly silent. Shanks blinked once, then burst out laughing, leaning back in his hammock. “There it is! I missed that charming way you threaten people without raising your voice.”

You glanced at Mihawk, noting the faint tension in his jaw as you smiled. Though Shanks meant no disrespect, Mihawk's protective response to the unwanted moniker touched you deeply, demonstrating his understanding of your aversion to that particular title and what the bounty had symbolized for you.

“Well, lass. If you ever tire of gloomy company and sword metaphors, I always keep a spare chair open.”

Mihawk’s hand brushed the stem of his wine glass with almost surgical calm as he seated. “She won’t.”

Their exchanges provided an interesting display of their dynamic, as Shanks skillfully employed playful provocation to elicit reactions from the Warlord. Despite Mihawk's outward facade of detachment, their interaction revealed an underlying foundation of respect and genuine friendship beneath Shanks' deliberate provocations.

“Come, share a drink with us,” he said, motioning toward an empty spot among the group. “Join our little celebration!”

"While I can hardly stomach a drink at this hour, it would be my greatest pleasure to share in your company."

The crew erupted in cheers, welcoming you into their impromptu festivities. None of them dared to reach for you, as Mihawk's watchful gaze tracked their every movement like a hawk monitoring its territory.

The moment you sat between him and the pirate captain, Red Hair resumed his enthusiastic chatter. “You know, Mihawk's never brought anyone into his circle before," he paused, studying you with keen interest. "So either our stoic friend has finally found his match, or you're far more dangerous than you let on."

"Dangerous? Not most days," you replied with feigned innocence. "Unless I run out of coffee. Then heaven help anyone who happens to be nearby."

Shanks laughed once more, so powerfully and joyfully that it was instantly contagious, tapping his drink in your direction. "Now that sounds like something our dear Hawk-Eye would consider a valid threat. **Better keep your lady well-stocked with coffee beans, my friend."

"I shall take note of that," Mihawk replied with mild irritation, though a glint of mirth flickered in his gaze.

As the morning wore on, Shanks and his crew became increasingly spirited, yet their warm hospitality made you feel instantly welcome. Your initial reserve gradually gave way to natural ease as you engaged in witty repartee with Shanks' trusted crewmates Yasopp, Lucky Roux, and Ben Beckman. The celebration crescendoed with spontaneous sea shanties, which, through their enthusiastic if somewhat discordant delivery, added to the convivial atmosphere.

Though Mihawk managed to keep his stoic reserve intact, his subtle discomfort with the revelry was noticeable. Yet he refrained from voicing any objections, having been the one to extend the invitation your way, for reasons that still remained a mystery. Your occasional gentle touches—a brush of fingers or a light contact on his arm—seemed to ease the tension from his shoulders. Shanks watched these subtle exchanges with visible appreciation, tactfully refraining from any intrusive or inappropriate remarks, as none were necessary.

Needing to stretch your legs, you excused yourself and walked along the shoreline, allowing the fresh sea breeze to invigorate your senses. As you settled onto the sand, feeling its fine grains beneath your palms, you looked at the vast ocean before you and reflected on how significantly your life had transformed over the past year. What began with a naive mishap at sea that led to dire circumstances had unexpectedly become an extraordinary life extending beyond the East Blue, complete with your own loyal crew and a serendipitous romance with the renowned Dracule Mihawk.

A content smile played across your face as the crisp maritime air caressed your skin. Above, the morning sky had cleared of all clouds, transmuting into a brilliant azure. The sounds of laughter and animated conversations echoed behind you, while approaching footsteps in the sand caused you to straighten your posture.

"Would you allow me to sit with you?" Shanks asked with a warm, inviting tone, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Pleasantly intrigued, you warmly accepted. "Of course."

The pirate not so elegantly took place next to you, his backside falling a bit too hard onto the sand, his movements evidently altered by the alcohol intake. He breathed out, resting his elbow over his right knee, quietly staring at the horizon while the ocean wind ruffled his red locks.

After a thoughtful pause, he spoke in his low, rough voice. "I have to admit, you've taken me by surprise."

"How so?" you asked.

"I've known Mihawk for many years, and I've never seen him quite this tamed."

"Everyone says that, but that's not exactly how I would describe him."

Your voice was measured, but Shanks could notice the protective edge in your tone.

"Word travels fast on these waters, rumors that change like the tides themselves. I never thought I'd see the day when the great Hawk-Eye would find someone to share his life with."

You hummed, worrying your lower lip. "I'm not entirely sure what we are, to be honest."

"Mihawk's never been one for grand declarations," he replied with warmth. "But I've known him long enough to see what's plain as day. When Hawk-Eye sets his mind on something worthwhile, he really commits to it."

A blush crept across your cheeks as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "You and Mihawk go back quite a way, don't you?"

"Aye. I've had the pleasure of crossing swords with him many times.”

“Really?”

He nodded. "These days, he says I'm only half the man I used to be."

As your eyes fell to the left side of his upper body, where his jacket's empty sleeve brushed against his side, you shook your head. "That's not what I heard about you. Of all the stories people tell about Red Hair, 'half a man' is not one of them."

"That's my old friend for you, honorable to a fault.”

Your eyes darted from his face to the missing arm with slight hesitation. "If I may ask, how did it happen?"

"Mh? About the arm?"

"Yes. You don't have to share if you'd rather not. Some stories are better left untold, indeed."

He gave you a wry smile, his expression a perfect blend of playfulness and gravity. "No, it's actually quite a tale. There was this boy in the East Blue, Luffy. A kid with a big dream and an even bigger mouth," he explained with fondness, leaning forward.

"Luffy? The same boy whose bounty you're celebrating?"

"Aye, good kid. He had that same fire in his eyes that I once did at that age. Young and fearless… almost too fearless, really. He got himself into quite the predicament one day, with a giant sea king bearing down on him.”

“Sounds like nasty business.”

"I made a choice that day,” he continued. “One I'd make again in a heartbeat."

"Oh… I see. So rather than claiming the boy, the sea monster took your arm instead."

"A small price to pay."

"And now here he is, chasing his dreams in your footsteps."

“Sometimes, when you see a spark that bright, you can’t help but reach out to protect it. Even if it means sacrificing a part of yourself."

For an ambitious pirate seeking the legendary One Piece treasure, the loss of a limb represented a significant setback. Yet, through remarkable determination and skill, Shanks ascended to become one of the world's most formidable pirates and swordsmen, despite this physical disability.

"That's quite moving, actually."

“Worth every drop of blood. It’s just an arm, I’d give up a lot more to see that kid shake the world one day.”

Your fingers traced small circles in the sand as a seagull's distant cry mingled with the rhythmic sound of the waves, creating a poetic atmosphere.

"It seems you'd rather see him find Gold Roger's treasure than claim it for yourself."

Shanks fell quiet, his smile softening into something contemplative as sunlight played across his features. "Oh I do plan to find it. But with all my time on the seas, my share of battles and victories, I’d say he’s got a future that even the world’s greatest treasure can hardly match."

You dusted off your hands, crossing your arms over your knees. "’This world could use a little shake-up’," you quoted. "That's what Mihawk told me a while ago."

"Always the patient observer, our friend Mihawk. Watching, waiting."

You straightened, a genuine grin spreading across your face. "And when that moment comes, you better believe the world will feel it."

Another chuckle escaped him, his face brightening. "You've really spent a lot of time around him. I can't imagine him being the easiest man to get close to.”

"He can definitely be a little unnerving. But once you break through that icy exterior, you realize there's so much more to him than just being the world's greatest swordsman."

With relaxed curiosity, Shanks leaned back in the sand. "There is, huh?"

"He's a man of principle. He respects strength, and not just the physical kind. He values conviction, loyalty, and a sharp mind. And despite his intimidating reputation, he has a sense of humor... albeit a rather dry one.”

“I have to agree. It’s the kind of humor that makes you question whether he’s joking or about to cut you down where you stand.”

"Precisely."

"You know him well. Perhaps even more than even I ever have."

You met his eyes, your own gaze steady. "Or maybe I’m just lucky enough to have caught his attention.”

"Luck might open a door, but it takes something great to walk through it. And I've never seen our stoic friend quite so at ease as he is with you around."

"I don’t know…” You pressed your lips together thoughtfully, inhaling the crisp, salty air. “Sometimes I wonder if I'm truly being genuine with myself. I've worn so many disguises while being hunted, pretended to be someone I'm not, and transformed into a person I never imagined becoming. I can't help but question whether this is really me."

Shanks studied you intently, his playful expression softening into something more contemplative and grounded. “I’ve been a pirate most of my life,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter now. “Worn titles I didn’t ask for. Made choices I didn’t always want to make. But in the middle of all that chaos, you start to realize something: who you are isn’t the mask you wear to survive. It’s the one who keeps pushing through, even when the mask starts to crack.”

You looked at him then, truly looked, as if seeing beneath the grin and the booze-stained charm. There was wisdom there, forged in storms and silence, not unlike the man who had given you his heart with barely a word.

“And Mihawk?” you asked, your voice barely above the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. “What do you think he sees?”

Shanks’ smile returned, but this time it held no jest. “I think he sees the parts of you that even you haven’t made peace with. That’s not luck, that’s choice.”

Your throat tightened slightly, emotion creeping in before you could stop it. You turned your eyes back to the ocean ahead, the line between sea and sky blurring in the distance.

“Then it’s time I stop running from who I have become.”

“And maybe it’s time the world gets to meet her. The Grand Line is a place where anything's possible, and from what I can see, you're already making big waves.”

You clicked your tongue dismissively. "I'm still quite new to all of this."

"If you've got good people around you, trusted allies at your side, that's worth more than any treasure in these waters."

He hesitated, blinking as he straightened his posture.

“You do have a crew of your own, right?”

"Yes, a small one. But those guys are worth an army of a hundred fighters."

"And with Hawk-Eye by your side, you've got yourself a force of nature," he added with a wink.

"Then I'd say I'm absolutely invincible."

His teeth flashed in the sunlight. "If you and your crew ever find yourselves in need of help, know that you have friends out here. My lads and I will come to your aid, no questions asked."

In that moment, everything became clear. Mihawk's choice to bring you to this island and his seemingly contradictory behavior, appearing withdrawn yet ensuring your integration with the Red-Hair pirates, finally revealed what the Warlord had left unspoken.

You exhaled, your shoulders relaxing. "Mihawk asked you to do that, didn't he?"

"No need for him to ask," he replied. "Some things, you just see right away."

"Then I suppose, even if I refuse, the decision isn't mine to make."

Shanks inclined his head, that familiar grin returning, but gentler now, like a hand offered without fanfare. “You can refuse all you want. We’ll still be there. That’s the thing about people like us—we don’t always choose our allies. Sometimes, they choose us.”

You looked at him for a long moment, your lips twitching into a half-smile. “You’re not what I expected, Red Hair.”

“No one ever says I am,” he chuckled. “That’s part of the fun.”

Your eyes drifted toward the shoreline again, where Mihawk's ship still lingered in view, distant but unmistakably anchored. Anchored, you realized, not just to the shore… but perhaps, in some quiet, guarded way, to you.

"You're a good man though, that much is clear."

"I'm just a man trying to keep the right kind of chaos in check," he said, voice low. "Sometimes, it means cracking a joke. Other times, standing behind someone when they don't even know they need it.”

You noted the simplicity with which he carried the weight of loyalty, the way he balanced lightness and seriousness in a single breath. "Well," you murmured. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. The world's a better place for it."

Society often portrayed pirates as criminals and outcasts, but experience had taught you differently. Those in positions of authority tended to resist change, often demonizing those who challenged the established order, even when they fought for noble causes.

"You know, I wish I weren't always his problem to solve."

You found yourself speaking with unexpected candor to this man you had just met. Perhaps it was his connection to Mihawk that made you feel so open, though this moment of vulnerability also revealed underlying fears you hadn't fully acknowledged on your own.

Shanks shook his head, responding with sincerity. "You're not his problem, more like his exception. He barely tolerates most of us, and like I said, I’ve known him for decades. But you?” He pointed subtly to the horizon. “That ship over there hasn’t sailed yet, and I believe it won’t unless you tell it to."

Mihawk's vessel drifted on the tranquil waves, swaying gently like a watchful sentinel. In his own reserved way, Mihawk had demonstrated his commitment more eloquently than words could express. What more could you ask of him, truly? How could you still doubt your worth when you had made it all the way to these New World shores with his guidance and protection?

"Take care of my old friend," he added, patting your shoulder as he rose to his feet. "I think he needs someone like you in his life."

A warmth bloomed in your chest. Shanks was entrusting him to you—someone he had just met, yet whom he seemed to understand better than almost anyone else.

"He may not need taking care of, but you can trust me to stand by him."

Satisfied with your conversation, Shanks made his way back to his hammock, adjusting the clasp on his jacket and stabilizing his tipsy steps. Leaving the shore, he passed Mihawk, exchanging a wordless understanding as the Warlord approached, taking his position beside you with his distinctive elegance. Neither of you said anything, for in that moment, the way he savored your closeness transcended the need for verbal communication.

You leaned against his shoulder, the festivities continuing behind you, with pirates raising their glasses amid cheerful revelry. Mihawk’s willingness to welcome your touch, without demands or expectations, made your heart soar and flip, your breath trembling as you prepared to speak the only two words that came naturally to your lips.

“Thank you.”

They emerged as barely a whisper, yet he heard them all the same.

"There is nothing to thank me for," he offered coldly, but with an underlying gentleness that betrayed his statement.

You ran your fingers along his hand, intertwining them with his. "Nothing? I'd say there are a million reasons for me to be thankful."

Mihawk turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing, though his hand didn’t pull away. "I did what I deemed necessary," he replied, more reflective than dismissive. "What you interpret as kindness is simply logic.”

“Then I’m grateful for your logic.”

The way his fingers subtly tightened around yours suggesting he didn’t mind it, at least not from you. "Gratitude is inefficient."

“You keep saying things like that, but your actions tell a different story,” you teased, touched with something more tender. “You think too much. Sometimes it’s okay to just… feel.”

A pause followed, the kind that stretched not from discomfort, but from careful consideration.

"Your assumptions are misplaced. I alone determine what parts of myself I choose to reveal."

Your thumb traced a gentle circle on his knuckles. "Yes."

The sharpness in his eyes gave way to something softer, unspoken but unmistakably real. Nothing else existed—no titles, no demands—just the quiet recognition of something rare between you and a man who had long lived behind walls. In that gaze, you saw everything he wouldn't say aloud: worry masked as indifference, protectiveness cloaked in precision, and depths of feeling buried beneath years of restraint.

"Still, you don't always have to be a fortress. At least, not with me."

The tension in his jaw eased. He shifted ever so slightly toward you, his lips brushing against the crown of your hair. "Perhaps you fail to see that your presence has already begun to break down my defenses," he replied with cold dignity, a hint of devotion coloring his confession.

Under the bright sky, amid the echo of sea waves and fading laughter, you leaned closer to the enigmatic Warlord, knowing that for someone like him, this closeness was indeed the feeling.

"Thank you, once again, for letting me in."

"What? You actually met the Red-Haired Shanks???"

Viper gaped at you in disbelief, her eyes widening to saucers as her trembling mug threatened to spill across the table.

"Oh yes, we forgot to mention it," Isaiah said with a smile. "She's absolutely obsessed with that man."

"Hey, I'm not obsessed! I just happen to have the same hair color."

"Nope, you're definitely a fangirl," Ironhide laughed. "Too bad you missed your chance."

Red sighed dramatically as she set her mug down, crossing her arms with a pout. "Look, in all seriousness, the man is truly admirable."

"Yeah, and it's totally a coincidence that you named yourself in a similar way, huh?"

"I didn't put that much thought into it. Red's my signature color, what's wrong with that?"

"I'm sorry, Red," you said sincerely. "If I had known he would be there..."

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm just so envious right now. Tell me, is he really like they say he is?"

"Even better," you replied. "Though our conversation was brief, he proved to be a man of true principle."

“Aw.”

"There you go, your eyes are sparkling again."

"Oh, stop it!"

"Shanks has taken us under his wing, you know," you explained. "So maybe one day, there will be a way for you to see him."

Isaiah's eyebrows arched upward. “’Us’?”

"Well, my crew and I. So yes, that counts as an 'us'."

Red braced against the table with sudden enthusiasm. "Wait, what did he tell you exactly?"

"That if I we ever need help, he'll be there without hesitation."

Before Red could respond, Trickshot burst into explosive laughter. "Oh, I can totally see her pretending to be a damsel in distress, stranded in the middle of the ocean, just so he can save her."

"Come on, seriously? You really think I'd do something that ridiculous?"

"Nah," he said, tousling her hair. "But you're pretty adorable when you let your guard down."

"I'll let my gun do the talking if you dare say that again."

Trick raised his hands in surrender and nodded. "Okay, gotcha sweetheart."

In the dim cabin light, you smiled in contentment as you watched your companions' animated banter and playful exchanges, a stark difference from the solitary year of travel that preceded this moment.

IMPORTANT: Since this appears to be the longest chapter I have ever written, due to Tumblr's 1000 blocks limit, I was forced to move the last section to a separate post. I want continuity, so turning this into a different format was not an option for me. Click here to finish reading the chapter!